A few days ago, Rob and I, on a rare occasion, found ourselves riding in the car alone. (If only the occasion hadn’t been spurred on by our very old washer leaking water into our basement, it may have been downright romantic. But I digress.) On our quick trip with trailer in tow to the hardware store we passed a bus for sale. Rob, in jest, asked, “How many kids did you want to have again?” My response was immediate, cynical and followed by spontaneous tears riddled with guilt over my unrelenting doubt.