What do you say to your three-year-old who wants nothing more than to be “a brother?”
I think that perhaps he believes that “brother” is synonymous with “grown,” but he’s been pretty clear about his demands: “I want a brother, and a sister and a doggie, and a kitty.” I mean…at least he is cute.
Prior to getting pregnant with my son, the question, “when will you have kids?” or “do you want kids?” became totally offensive although I know people ask out of a place of love. But as all too many of us know, when you want to get pregnant, that question is like nails on a chalkboard.
I always had a clear plan when it came to my family. I always imagined that I would have at least two children and that those children would be exactly 3.5 years apart (just like my sister and me). It took me all of 2 years to even think about Baby #2. I was NOT ready and furthermore, the neonatologist specifically said that I should not get pregnant for at least two years.
9 months prior to my son being 3.5 years, I knew exactly what to do as we had already done it once. I have a cycle that you can set your watch to…or at least I did, so I was confident. But a year ago, something changed. I chalked it up to age and hormones at first. My perfect cycle was now imperfect. It started with a longer-than-usual cycle that ended painfully. Then it was shorter, it came on weird days, and all the usual symptoms were different and much worse. I feel struggle to function for 6 days of my now 24-day cycle. I have avoided admitting that I likely conceived and immediately miscarried but there is no other explanation as my bloodwork shows no abnormality. That was a year ago.
So now, my clock is ticking faster than ever, I’m getting rapid-fire cycles that cripple me every three and a half weeks, and this adorable little boy just cannot wait to add “brother” to his resume.
Honestly, I was starting to accept having one child. We floated the idea of adopting at some point. But whenever I look into my son’s eyes that have my shape and my husband’s color, or stroke his soft hair, I think, “I want to do this one more time.”I never wanted it as much as I do now that he knows what siblings are and has asked for one.
I smile through the guilt while we talk about his little brother or sister, who he wants to also name Henry. My heart will be heavy until I can make this happen for him one way or another. For now, I just say, “we are working on it, Buddy!”
