When I was a younger man I assumed I'd have kids one day. The subject wasn't one I thought about much, I just assumed it would happen. I'm fairly certain that I put more brain power into the part leading up to making kids than how I'd feel about the kids themselves. Psychologists have a term that describes this type of thinking "normal red blooded American male heterosexuality".
After being married a few years, you expect that a certain amount of practice would make perfect and a colony of rug rats would mysteriously spring up in the living room. Then I turned thirty, no kids, still no worries lots of time. More time past, then even more time. We had great vacations and got to do stuff that many others are age didn't. Still no kids. Right before Mrs Ipsa hit the BIG 40 we had the boy.
Frankly I love it. Even the parts I don't care for are still pretty darn good. When I was younger I couldn't wait for the next stage in life, but now I don't have that problem. I like this stage. I enjoy my days of being the dad. I like playing. I like being a dad and I'm very thankful for the experience of being the father of a son. Still I'd like to have a daughter or maybe another boy or two.
Mrs. Ipsa was at an out of state CME conference yesterday when she miscarried a baby that she didn't know she was pregnant with. She seems ok. Me? Not so much. I'm not grieving like I did when we lost my niece last year, but I'm not a happy camper.