My HUSBAND and I always knew we wanted to have two children. That was until our daughter, Emerson, was born. After six months of colic and 10 months of sleep deprivation, now we're not so sure. Emmy just turned 1, but everyone keeps asking, "So when are you going to have another baby?" My husband and I smile politely and answer evasively, but what we're really thinking is, "You've got to be out of your mind!" Maybe if our first baby had been easy, we might seriously be considering a sibling right now. Or perhaps if we were still in our 20s, we'd have the energy, naivete, and optimism of youth, and the thought of taking on another one wouldn't seem so daunting.

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Also, in another era, Grandma might live just down the street rather than an hour and a half away. Although the number of one-child families is on the rise, the pressure to have at least two kids is no less evident. My friend Donna calls it our society's insistence for couples to produce "an heir and a spare." Donna knows a lot about the pressure to have kids. She has decided not to have them and is often hounded by relatives and at baby showers. It's not that Donna doesn't like children.

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Instead, she feels that, for a variety of reasons, motherhood is something she's not interested in pursuing. She's very happy to play the role of favorite auntie. Pregnant Donna is often told that someday she may change her mind. Would anyone ever tell a woman who wanted to become a mother that someday she'd change her mind? Well, the opposite is just as insulting and presumptuous. I'll never forget when Donna told me that the only good thing about her husband's illness was that when people asked if she and Pete had children, she could say, "No, my husband has cancer." That always shut them up.

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The topic of having babies was also very pain- People are always asking couples when they're going to have a baby. But whose business is it, anyway? ful to another friend, who confided that, "After struggling with infertility for years, I never ask anyone if they plan to have children." She and her husband ultimately adopted two wonderful kids. But with one out of four couples dealing with the pain and uncertainty of infertility, her advice seems worth considering. For the willing and the able of us, the pressure is on to have two kids preferably a boy and a girl. Case in point: a colleague who was congratulated by complete strangers "for being done in one shot" after having fraternal twins, a boy and a girl.

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If they only knew how hard it was for Pauses her to get pregnant, they'd really have something to congratulate her about. The angst that my husband and I feel about having a second child is nothing compared with that of our friends Mary and Jack. Mary and Jack really want another one. At nearly 41, Mary doesn't have much time. She had trouble conceiving and carrying their daughter, Sarah.

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So the thought of taking on another pregnancy while caring for a toddler, plus working full time, is overwhelming indeed. I admire Mary's tenacity but know for myself that I need some time. And at only 33, though my fertility may be declining, I still have time. I adore our daughter, and giving her a brother or sister seems like a good idea (at least in theory). However, I can think of a number of things I'd rather have than another baby.

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The list includes liposuction, a master's degree, and a trip to Rome. Does this make me selfish? Probably. Does it make me honest? Definitely. But a fulfilled parent is a happy parent. And whether you have one child or 10, being happy doesn't seem like such a bad thing.

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Ultimately, the decision to have or not have kids is a profoundly personal one. And asking others about it is often unwelcome. I may not be headed to Rome yet, but ask me again in a couple of years.

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August 17, 2003, page 249 - The Boston Globe Sunday Magazine