The question everyone seems to want answered

I hadn't even left the hospital after baby George was stillborn and nurses and callers were asking if we'd have more children. My husband and I couldn't even go there then, and honestly, I still just avoid thinking about it. I'm open to life as we Catholic mothers say, but, I'm not trying to conceive any time soon.

Shortly after we had told the children we were expecting, when they actually jumped (and whooped, and yelled) with joy, I got a few books about where babies come from. I figured the boys were older and it was about time for us to venture into this territory in age appropriate ways. In particular I remember reading them one of the La Leche League (mother-to-mother breastfeeding support) library books; I was librarian of our group and had the books in our home to peruse at leisure. It's called Becoming and is a vintage sort of 1970s gem with line drawings that just scream hippy, granola parents. It's classic and really needs a wonk-chicka-chicka-chew soundtrack.

To my surprise at the time the boys could have cared less about the actual way babies begin. It was a non-issue, hardly registered any reaction at all, definitely no further discussion. Mumma pushing the baby out on the other hand was a huge topic of discussion and general hilarity.

So, flash forward to the night or a few nights after our baby's funeral and one of our boys (I won't name names to protect his dignity should he ever hear of this), shared with us his sadness that we didn't get to have our baby at home. My husband and I, every night, tuck the children into bed and ask their favourite part of the day and hear their prayers. And it was at the end of this special time that he looked at us and said he hoped we'd have another baby soon. My eyes filled with tears, my husband squeezed my hand, and I answered, "Oh, honey. I know."

He stared into my eyes and asked, "So when do you think we'll have another baby?" I sighed and said, "Well, I'm not sure. It's up to God when and if we have another baby." And he got this cheeky look on his face and said, "Or you and Dad could just, you know." And he gave us this look, a kind of knowing wink. So he had been paying attention all those months before!

We burst out laughing and my husband was trying not to completely crack up in the room. I said, well, yes, but it's still up to God if we conceive a baby. Just because parents are intimate doesn't guarantee a baby.

"Oh," he says. But the little rascal's blue-green eyes were dancing and that wicked grin and those dimples were on full display. He's a cheeky monkey and he knows it. "Well, we'd all really like another baby."

And then (after we left the room of course) my husband and I laughed even more because of course someday when the boys are older we'll change that story and warn them that each and every time - even once! - could potentially create a baby.

It was nice to laugh and to know that our son is comfortable enough to grieve and talk with us about anything. And my husband still jokes that his son has his back on encouraging a little more procreative activity. Of course we were sad, too, and I cried because we don't know if baby George is the last little one we'll have. And we wish every single day he was here with us.

I truly don't know about my answer to that question. I'm afraid now and I never was before.