Niblet isn't having it (Part 1)

So I have been pretty reluctant to share my troubles with Niblet, for pretty obvious reasons.  I have also been reluctant to put the heavy burden on her of her miraculous existence.  Maybe a kid doesn't want to be a miracle, they just want to be a kid, right?

Well, the past few weeks have been cray cray at work, and just as I started to decompress, and take a moment to breathe and wake up to the fact that maybe, just maybe, spring is here, Niblet springs this on me, running into the house from some very contemplative time swinging on her tire swing in the back yard:

Mom, I don't want to be an only child.  I really wish I had a little sister.  Couldn't we maybe, like, adopt a child who needs a family from an orphanage?  Why can't we?

I'm not sure I have the ability to do the play by play of this conversation.  I did everything I could to highlight how wonderful our family of three was.  How special our relationship is.  I know that I tried my best to explain how difficult adoption was (and for reals, in case anyone is wondering, I have actually researched the topic at length)....I explained that actually, there weren't a lot of babies to adopt in the US.... that there were children to foster, but these would be kids who would be placed back with there mommies or daddies after they got the help they needed....how to adopt  - like some of our friends did  - we would need a lot of money to find a baby overseas, in Asia or Africa....

This was a draining conversation, because Niblet couldn't wrap her brain around lots of things.  Why babies cost money.  Why mommy and daddy couldn't just have one of their own babies with mommy's egg and daddy's sperm.  So I made the first, teensiest attempt at explaining my RPL with her.

M:  Well, I have been to many many doctors.  And it looks like Mommy was born with some problems that make it hard to have a healthy baby.  You know how we read in that book how women are born with lots of eggs?  Mommy actually had fewer eggs than most women, and it turns out that the eggs I was born with were unhealthy and couldn't make a healthy baby.

N: Is that why you had a baby die in your tummy mommy?

M: Yes, actually I had more than one baby die in my tummy sweetie, there were a few.

N:  Can't you just try again with another egg?  

And here we are.  Hundreds of dollars of therapy into reconciling my family of three, and Niblet isn't. having. any. of. it.

N:  But This is so unfair! (tears are streaming down her face)

M:  Yes, yes it is.  And you have the right to be sad and angry that you can't have the kind of family you want.  It's okay to be sad and angry, mommy sometimes is too.  Not all of the time, but mommy  - and daddy  - we get sad too.  Just like people who get very sick, they get sad and angry at how unfair it is.  Because sometimes bad things really do happen to good people.  And sometimes we try and try, but we can't control things we want to control.

So where have we ended up in these days of conversations?  In a really strange place.  I explained with all honesty, that Dad and I have never stopped trying to have a baby, but that we have come to accept that it would take a miracle for us to have one.

N:  (Her eyes widen.  It seems I have opened a door).  Can't I pray for a miracle?

M:  Of course you can sweetheart.  I would never say you couldn't hope for something you wanted, I would only say that you shouldn't get your hopes up for something you can't get, through no fault of anyone.

Sorry Facebook Friend

I love your pictures of your husband and daughter, your posts are often insightful and zingy, and mad props for being pregnant right now at 41, but I can't stop dwelling about the fact that you are now going to bring in two babies into the world in roughly the same time frame that I have lost five. 

#Unfollow

#Itsnotyouitsme

NYC dreams

I spent Spring Break with Niblet visiting my parents in NYC.  We visited museums, ate good chinese food and better bagels, and had an overall fun trip.  Viking stayed home, he was working all week...

Coming back on the Amtrak, I was struck by what a pair Niblet and I are.  Don't kid yourself, this kid's in quite a phase right now, her favorite past-time is obnoxiously yelling about her "mean mom"  - because I frequently make her do such awful, soul-crushing things, you know, like eat her veggies, brush her teeth and hair, and bathe regularly.  But last Thursday we had a few hours of pure bliss at the Metropolitan Museum of Art.  Leaving my tired mom and dad home for a few hours of peace, we walked miles at the MET, looking at everything from Egyptian temples to decorative french palatial rooms.  I dragged her to rooms with European paintings, because I knew she would be drawn to impressionists.  I bought her overpriced art supplies at the gift shop. When we were done I bought her a hot dog outside to eat by the fountain and she fed the pigeons her bread.  We had a blast. 

I've put to bed the dreams of raising a larger brood, but I am starting to reconcile my life as a mom to an only.  I've fallen into a rhythm with this gorgeous, challenging kid.  It's not the life I dreamed of, it's missing pieces - babies - that I expect to grieve for eternity....but man it's a damn fine life.