The Big Question

The most common question I get these days is "So when are you having another one?"  Apparently once you have one child, you're expected to be a baby making machine.  I'll be completely honest, though.  I'm very torn about giving you a brother or sister.  I grew up the youngest of 5, which meant that I was both surrounded by siblings at one point in my childhood.  But having such an age gap between all my sisters and I also meant that I was the only kid in the house for a good portion of growing up as well.  Before you came along, I always assumed that I'd want more than one child.  After all, how could I deprive my kids the complete awesomeness of siblings?  But now you're here... and as awful as it sounds to say this... I don't know that I want to divide my attention.  It almost feels selfish.  You're just so amazing and fun and cool!  I want to spend every spare moment I have with you.  A second baby would mean less of the already too little Mommy/Lily time that we have.  I hate that we have so little now.  

But then on the other hand, I feel I do you a disservice by not providing you with a sibling.  Sibling rivalry is a healthy part of growing up - although, that can backfire.  On the one hand, your sibling can be your best friend throughout life, never once wavering.  On the other hand, your sibling can cause you enormous amounts of pain, and you can simply stop acknowledging one another.  It's a crap shoot, perhaps.  I love all of my sisters dearly.  And I think it was good to have one another growing up.  And I can say with 100% certainty that, despite all of our differences, in a time of crisis, we'd all be there for one another.  That's what sisters do.

Still... the thought of a second baby scares the crap out of me.  How in the world would your father and I be able to juggle two kids, when we just barely keep all of our balls in the air now?  It's a silly question to ask, I know.  The answer is, we simply would.  Goddess knows I wasn't at all prepared when you came into being. I had know idea what I was doing, or how we were going to manage.  But here I am, managing.  Perhaps not with all the grace and finesse of other mothers, but managing none-the-less.  So logically, yes, I know we'd be fine.  But emotionally?  I think I'd be a wreck.  

It also seems to be somewhat selfish to have a 2nd child this day in age.  The Earth is already taking so much abuse due to our booming population.  Not to mention, the countless kids that need families and homes.  I've been giving very serious thought to the prospect of adoption.  It feels like that might be the right choice for our family when/if it comes time to grow.  Granted, it's like helping to empty the ocean by taking a tear-dropper full out... but maybe I'll start a trend, who knows?  The only thing I think I'd miss is being pregnant again.  I loved being pregnant.  Never before in my life did I feel so beautiful, so purposeful, and so close to the Goddess as I did when I was helping to create a life.  Your life.  I felt more than whole.  It was amazing, and something I will treasure for all time.  To be able to do that a second time would be a blessing.  But... I would still feel guilty.  To be able to give warmth, love, and family to a child without those.... that would also truly be a blessing.

As you can tell, I'm really back and forth on the whole subject.  Perhaps I'll take your Aunt Jenny's strategy - when you start asking for a sibling, I'll start giving it more serious thought.  For now, I can tell you for sure that I am just too busy learning about you, helping you grow, and smothering you with love to be distracted.  I can say with certainty, that if you end up being my only child, I will still feel overwhelmed with how blessed I am.  and should another baby come along... it'll be that much more love to go around.

words, words, words

You are quite the little chatter box, miss almost-15-months.  Here's a list of words you can say:

mama
dada
da (cat)
shoes
up
baby
bug
nite-nite
bye-bye
hi
brush
uh-oh
all done (sort of...)
frog
car
cup
no
juice

Ok.  At least, these are the ones that come to mind right now.  You love to try and parrot your daddy and me.... means we have to really start being careful about what we say!  Pretty soon, you'll be talking in sentences!

2010

My Lilybug,

I feel like I should have awesome words of wisdom for you in these letters, but let's face it - by the time you read these you will certainly know that I just make things up as I go along.  It's 2:21 am on January 1st, 2011. I've was trying to reflect on 2010 as we all drove home tonight.  It was a tough year for not only us, but it seems for a lot of our loved ones.  I'm not sure why that is.  Maybe it was how the stars and planets were aligned.  Maybe there was a negative energy that we all fed off of.  Or maybe it was just stupid bad luck and coincidence.  Who knows...

We bought our home in 2010.  For most, this is a joyous occasion.  For your father and I, I think it pushed us both past limits we didn't even know existed, and tested strength we didn't know we had.  The move was a disaster.  The house is disrepair.  I was a new mother in desperate need of quiet sanctuary, and had only chaos.  Your Dad worked day and night to do everything he could (and somethings he probably shouldn't have done himself...) to make this little house our home.  But we started to feed of one another's frustration, and lived in our own heads too much.  Somehow, we made it out alive.  Although, just barely, I think.  In the end, I know that your Dad won't ever truly understand the level of appreciation I have for all that he put himself through just for the sake of our little family.  Something I could not make seen through all my frustrations and aggravations.  But now here we are in the midst of complete renovation.  In the end, I know it will be worth all stress and insanity.  There will be sanctuary for us all.  Knowing that gets me through.  There's always a light at the end of the tunnel, Bug.  You just have to spin in circles to find the right direction sometimes.

In 2010, we lost our Rocky Dog.  My heart still breaks when I think about him.  I know that you will never remember him, but he really was the greatest dog ever.  Although the added stress of an ailing elderly dog did not help and tensions with your father and I.  But we always came together when Rocky needed us most.  Especially in the end, when he needed our help to simply let go.  Your Dad still carries Rocky's collar in his coat pocket.  He's not quite the same without his best friend by his side... there's just a tiny less spring in his step that nothing will replace.  Just goes to show, a best friend truly can come in any form.

2010 saw fractures in the foundation of what we call our family.  Hurt feelings, misunderstandings, resentment, repressed anger, and poor communication seemed to be running themes in all our lives.  Some relationships survived the ongoing quake.  Others were not so lucky.  Your Grandmother believes that everything happens for a reason, even the bad things.  I can't say if that is true or not, Bug.  But I can say that I can see the good that came out of all the bad for me.  And I can say that I am a better person now, than I was at this time last year.  I hope to say that again next year.  And I hope you experience the same in your life.

I am not sorry to see 2010 go.  It was a hard, but necessary year.  Like they say - you've got to get through the rain to see the rainbow.  I think 2011 will be a rainbow year for us.  And I will appreciate all that we survived in 2010 the more.  Don't overlook the good in the bad, Bug.

I love you.