It was a huge bombshell when my younger husband announced he wanted a vasectomy. He’s happy with our boy and girl, but has no desire for anymore. I don’t remember having the conversation about whether we wanted two or three children, but as soon as the “v” word was mentioned, my desire to have a third child was stronger than ever.

It’s human nature to want what you can’t have. After hearing my husband wanted a vasectomy it all seemed very final.  I was sad I was losing the chance to have anymore children with him. I felt forced in to making a decision I wasn’t comfortable with and I certainly wasn’t ready to admit my baby making days were over.

Before the word vasectomy was uttered I could honestly say I was indifferent to having a third child. But once my decision was taken away it unearthed a torrent of maternal feelings. It also doesn’t help that I am incredibly broody, as an arm-chair midwife, watching One Born Every Minute. Rather than discouraging me, as women shriek out their babies, it makes me want one even more.

Ironically, my husband is one of four and I am one of two and yet I crave the bigger family. He’s adamant he doesn’t want anymore children and I know it’s unfair to bring a child in to the world that isn’t wanted by both parents. I’ve friends who are desperately trying for their first baby and I feel guilty for wanting a luxury third child. I know I am lucky to have a wonderful girl and boy and it seems a little greedy to want another.

I also don’t want to rock the boat, I am approaching 40 and I am acutely aware there are more health risks associated with older women having babies, but then I read of over 50s popping out babies and that throws my argument out the window.

Frantically searching the internet I tried to put my husband off by finding horror stories of vasectomies that had gone terribly wrong. In some ways, part of me respects him for taking control and having an operation where you can’t help but wince at the mere mention of the word. However, I refused to be come to the doctors to pick up the vasectomy referral letter, but had to laugh at the ironic nine-month waiting list to have the op!

Many women I know would love their husbands to have the op, but say their men are too squeamish. But to me, a vasectomy seems so final and if we were to change our minds it would cost a fortune to reverse the procedure.  A friend of mine thought it was a compliment to me that my husband didn’t want to procreate with any other women. I didn’t quite see it like that. In a strange way to appease me my other half offered to buy a black Labrador puppy because they are cute and cuddly and just as much work as a baby.

Mother Nature is crafty and plays games with women’s hormones. With both my pregnancies I suffered five months of debilitating morning sickness, terrible mood swings, constant fatigue and aches and pains in places I didn’t know existed. However, my selective memory has erased all negative memories and replaced them with warm gooey ones of babies. The nagging voice telling me to have another child won’t go away. This is why I’ve stubbornly refused to get rid of many baby clothes or the moses basket which is currently gathering dust in the loft.

Despite the recession, three children seems to be the new two and I can’t help noticing families with three children. I wonder how they are coping and most of the time it appears very well. I am also canvassing friends with three children hoping they will put me off with stories of their daily struggle, but they calmly tell me the leap isn’t that big once you have two. Are they lying, is this a conspiracy?

Practical reasons tell me not to have another child. Our car snugly fits two child car seats not three, we would have to lose our spare room to accommodate a third child. People tell me most holidays cater for a family of four not five. Realistically, do I have the time and energy for a third? Last time I looked I only had two hands so what do I do when I am crossing a road, does one child hitch a ride on my back? Am I being a martyr trying to make life harder for myself? Questions, questions!

Then there’s the issue of whether the dynamic of our family will change, will my second child have his nose put out of joint and become the forgotten middle child? Is it true two’s company three’s a crowd? I also worry about my own two children and if I have a third my worry levels will triple.

I am guilty of having a short-term view of life, yes babies are adorable, but they all grow up. I am not sure I’ve envisaged three spotty hormone-fuelled teenagers, three lots of homework not to mention astronomical university fees. But can you put a price on having another child who enriches you life? My practical head and emotional head are at war and I can argue the case for both sides most days.

With my children at school and pre-school, my life is finally returning to normal. I am enjoying catching up with friends in cafes without highchairs, doing yoga and reading. Up until a few months ago I moaned I was losing my identity and didn’t have enough “me time”. Now I have it, I am thinking of having another baby! I see the contradiction, but who said that women’s hormones ever made any sense.

I often hear people say they feel complete after having three children. I feel I’ve more to give, more nappies to change more puree to mash. Even though I admit I am not a natural mother and struggle having two, the nurturing part of me wants to cuddle a new-born again.

So I have my work cut out deciding what is best for our family and either coming to terms with the fact that two is enough or persuading my husband to come round to my way of thinking. I’ll either be buying a kennel or bringing down the dusty moses basket from the loft. . .