A Quiet Decision

“There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens.”
—Ecclesiastes 3:1

Yesterday, after finishing my blog post, Cata said, “You should write—” and stopped.
I looked at her. “What?” I asked.
She paused, her eyes a little watery. “The decision not to have any more kids,” she said quietly. Then she didn’t say anything else.

I walked over and gave her a kiss.

Would I have more kids? Yes. We have three and are deeply blessed. My parents had five. But times are different now—especially financially. And Cata is over 40, which makes her a high-risk pregnancy.

With the three we have, we feel complete.

Charlotte and Brooklyn—over two and nearly one—are enough to keep us fully invested, physically and emotionally. Parenting them in our 40s takes every ounce of intentionality and grace. We’re committed to raising them well, and that takes focus. It’s not about closing the door—it’s about recognizing the season we’re in and being faithful to it.

There are still days, though, when Cata misses being pregnant. She tells me the hardest part is watching how fast they grow. Babyhood, it seems, slips away too quickly.

Being a full-time, work-from-home mom is both a blessing and a challenge. Cata gets to witness every milestone in real time, but the daily juggle of work, care, and house can be a lot. Even in that tension, she’s deeply grateful—grateful that she had two healthy pregnancies, when for a time she thought she might never have one. Grateful that both girls are thriving. Grateful that she’s been able to breastfeed them up to now.

We’re especially grateful they’re growing up close together.

This is our season. And we are soaking it in.

If you’re wrestling with the limits of a season—whether it’s closing a door, making peace with a decision, or simply holding gratitude in the midst of longing—know that God is still in it. His grace meets us where we are, not where we wish we could be.

Closing Prayer
Lord, thank You for the season we’re in—for the blessings You’ve given and the peace You provide when our hearts ache for more. Help us walk faithfully in today’s grace, content with Your goodness, even as we remember what might have been. Amen.