I had a thought-provoking talk recently with a friend who lovingly asked me why we don't space out these babies a bit more. I've gotten lazy in my old age and have lost that college debater acuity that used to serve me so well (ie spur me to speak definitively and authoritatively with little preparatory thought or concern for accuracy). My husband and I sludged through the major arguments in the contraception debate back a ways and ended up where we are now, but I hadn't revisited them in a while, so my sluggishness in the conversation suggested I was due. I've multiplied and then some. Why shouldn't I be done, or at least pace myself?
Here's what it comes down to: I don't have any reason to tell God "no" or "ask again later" when he offers me a baby. We have income, health insurance, and a house (it's even big). I am very healthy and pregnancy does not pose any unusual risks or difficulties for me. I'm cranky, but not crazy. I am neither sick (in body or mind) nor in want, so I don't have an excuse, if I wanted to argue that those things are excuses.
So that's why, friend. It's not the life I imagined, but I think it's what's right. I plugged in my personal variables and this is the answer I got. I am not and should not be presumed to be speaking for anyone else.