“Nice message,” The Sis said, and I didn’t remember leaving one. “‘Man in the Mirror’? Singing the whole song on my voice mail?”

Then I remembered: The Husband and I flying down 400 South on a Sunday night, singing a Michael Jackson hit at the tops of our respective lungs, all the while being taped for posterity and future bribery because the phone had not disconnected when I thought I pressed End Call.

There are side effects to being married to your best friend.

We’ve encountered issues since we partnered up back in 2008 and realized we were just fine hanging out with only each other, anytime and all the time. Having been one of Those Girls who judged people who sequestered themselves in relationships, I crossed enemy lines and allowed myself to be sequestered. Chose it, even. And I didn’t mind enduring the judgment I had once doled out because I had found fun and love and safety and adventure in one person, and don’t we always spend more time on our favorites?

The liability then was being omitted from email circles and girls’ night invites. Now, there are bigger considerations.

When Carrie gave Big the watch that said Me and you, just us two (I TOLD you I would write about Sex and the City), I thought about what that would be like: a childless life. The other day a coworker offered unsolicited advice to The Husband: enjoy just being married for a few years before trying to have kids. When TH came home and told me that little nugget, my Sarcasm Button was officially pressed. Thanks for the tip, asshole! It’s a good thing we live in a world where eggs never turn to crap and the uterus remains functional for life! I’ll just go saddle up my unicorn and head my thirty-three-year-old plumbing to the club since there’s no hurry!

I believe in a timetable that spans eternity and one who holds dominion over sun and moon and even clocks. But on my side of that eternity, I am pressed between looking to my watch for the time and trusting that each second is ultimately in his hands. One of my favorite prayers other than Help me is this: let me heed no sense of urgency that is not of you. But oh, how I do.

So here we are, me and TH, staring the Baby Issue in the face sooner than we’d like because school and New York and perfect timing added a few years onto our lives. We’re surrounded by both infertility and children and trying to decide what our future holds (at least the part of it that’s up to us, and who really knows how much that is anyway? Less than we think seems to be a reliable answer). There is the fear of potential loss, of emotions running the gamut from disappointment to searing emptiness; there is also the reality of sleeplessness and upended schedules and poop everywhere. And then there’s us, belting out hits in the car and sleeping in and generally feeling like we won the lottery when we found each other and if it ain’t broke, why fix it? Hence the liability of already having more love in your life than you thought possible: it is so much more than enough.

And maybe that’s part of the answer–the fact that if we do have kids, it won’t be to fill a hole. Because when I was younger, I only saw the fairy-tale side of things: the miracle of childbirth followed by the fantasy of raising children. Then I heard The Sis’s rundown of delivery day and realized that movies lie because not one of them had mentioned uncontrollable defecation. I saw her glazed eyes and realized there was more to the story than buying tiny outfits and picking names. When I was younger, I chose boys and made decisions based on my own insecurities, hoping they would be quieted down once the fairy tale ending showed up. Then I found the narrative that actually quieted those insecurities and saw that it was filled with mystery beyond my control rather than checklists. And then, in that quiet, unfolded my own story–and it was better than the fairy tale because it was real.

But real is messy. And has many sides. And choices must be made. What can I tell you? Well, a few things. I can tell you that on Sunday afternoon, TH opened the door to receive our Girl Scout cookies and while I was drooling into my hand and willing him to shut the damn door so we could rip that sweetness open, he was encouraging two little girls with sincerity and kindness and my heart melted at his child-friendly voice. I can tell you that later that night, I went over to The Sis’s to watch the Oscars Red Carpet and happened to arrive at bath time. I watched the new family go about their ritual, a circle of three covered in suds and smiles, and then I watched The Sis–a person whose lack of gushiness is rivaled only by mine–whisper warmth and love into her daughter’s ear. I came home to TH and the couch that for now holds just us two. And I knew that, no matter what the one who holds the future holds within that future, we are held by him. And that there is, and will always be, love enough to go around.