Close readers of this blog (hi, Josh!) may have noticed that I removed a post from a few days ago called "Only." It was my sad attempt to talk about my feelings on family size and that Dash may, could, likely will be an only child. Except that it didn't even begin to address my feelings and instead it was all "blah blah hard to get pregnant got too fat no money cry blah!." So it took it down because, my God, really? Stop whining. So I'll try again here:
Before Josh & I started trying to have a baby we always talked about two. We were both only children and although I think we were both happy and never felt a lack, the novelty of having two appealed to us. Then we started trying and it didn't work. It didn't work for two years and after countless procedures and medicated cycles and monitored follicles and blood draws and even a couple of surgeries. Every month that ended with a negative pregnancy test shaved away a little bit of hope that we would ever have even one child.
And then a miracle happened. We found the right doctor who made the right diagnosis and we got pregnant with Dash. At that point all I could think about was coming out the other side with a healthy and whole baby. I thought that if I were given the gift of this one child I would never ask for anything else ever again. I hadn't decided to never try for a second, I just knew that the stakes were lowered. No baby would be the end of the world. One baby would be plenty.
But this weekend we visited Josh's oldest friends and got to hang out with their two boys, ages four and two. These boys are quite clearly bestest friends. The enjoyment they were getting from one another's company was palpable and dazzling. Although I'm completely unused to the chaos of a two-toddler house, I found it delicious and for a moment I became so sad that Dash would likely miss out on that. Hell, that I would miss out on that. It was the first time since I got pregnant that I really, seriously considered doing it again.
Most of the time, though, I've got a shaky confidence that we have what we can handle. That Dash completes our family and that what resources we have ought to be directed solely at him. I know this seems like a freakish attitude to most, so I seek out other families who stopped at one (Parker-Brodericks, I'm looking at you) for reassurance that we're not hurting Dash by denying him a sibling. You know, if we deny him a sibling. Because the confidence? It is shaky.
I guess what I want today is to know that whatever happens, we'll be ok. That Dash will be as happy alone as he will be with a brother or sister. I want to know that any decision, if we get to make one (because I don't so much get pregnant as have medical procedures performed upon my person) is the right one. That our lives will play out without regret.