My daughter was eating dirt yesterday. How adorable and gross at the same time. She loves to dig in the potted plants on the patio. Apparently, digging wasn't enough - she had to taste. I hope she learned a lesson. Blech.
I see her getting bigger and smarter every day. It's an amazing process. And it's breaking my heart. She is 14 months old -- not a baby anymore. I don't think this would bother me (as much) if it weren't for the fact that, in all likelihood, I won't be having any more babies. Not my choice -- but the result of a compromise with P that I agreed to.
It wasn't until after we were married that I discovered I really really wanted to have a child. Before that, I was ambivalent. P didn't want any more children (he already had one from his first marriage). It was not a problem at the time. But then a little while after we were married, it hit me very hard. I wanted a child. I NEEDED to have a child. I could not pass through this life without experiencing that. Without creating some kind of legacy of my own. P always argued that I had T, which I did, but not really. He would also argue that we had K, but I didn't have K. He had K. I do not and am never going to have the same feelings for her that he does. Period. But he tried to convince me that my family was complete. However, I knew it was not.
I can't even describe what a horrible time this was for us. As much as we loved each other, we were at odds over this very important issue. His standard reply was that he needed more time to think about it. He'd let me know when he was ready to talk about it. But I wasn't getting any younger, you know. I felt that he secretly hoped time would run out for me, and he wouldn't have to deal with it anymore. So, at some point, I gave him an ultimatum. Decide by such and such a time - one way or the other. I HAVE to know. And if you say no, I won't leave you. I love you. But you need to be aware of what that decision will do to me. It will kill me. Not now probably. I'm pretty happy with how life is right now. But when we're older, and it's too late for me. How will I deal with it then? I may hate you. I may regret marrying you. I don't want to feel that way. But it may happen. This is THAT important to me. Just thought you should know. He understood what I was saying. He agreed with me. He's that way. And he took his time and thought about everything. But in the end, as I was to learn later, he let his heart decide.
The weekend of his "due date" we went camping. I was on pins and needles the whole time. Finally, on Sunday, just hours before we were to leave and come home, he asked me to go for a walk with him. I knew I was about to get my answer.
We stopped along the bank of the lake, and he turned me around to face him. He was holding my hands. He got very close to me, and looked intently into my eyes. Then he said something like (it's kind of a blur - I was very emotional at the time) he loved me more than anything or anyone in the world, wanted to be with me always, and after a lot of thought and introspection, he realized that nothing would make him happier than having a family with me. Having our own child together. I was ecstatic!
So we set about to trying as soon as we got home. :) Four months later, I was pregnant. 10 weeks later, I miscarried. And as if that weren't bad enough, P had second thoughts about everything. Something didn't feel right to him. The timing, our finances, our living arrangements. He couldn't get comfortable with it. He admitted to feeling relief. He did not want to try again. I was devastated. I've never cried so much in my life. Even when my mother died, my grief was not as intense.
He worried that I would leave him. I worried about that too. No one would have blamed me. Even him. But a part of me realized that he must have felt very very strongly to have risked that. I had to think about that. As a means of reconciliation, I set about trying to understand his fears, his hesitation. As I began to understand his feelings better, I also came to believe that some day he would change his mind. In spite of my broken heart, I held on to the hope that if things just came together, if everything was just right, if all the planets aligned perfectly at one perfect moment, we would have a family.
But things needed to happen first. That much I determined. Things that were important to P - to his feelings of security. He needed to know he'd be able to take care of a family. He needed to know we were okay - he and I. So I had to give it time - whether or not I felt I had it. And in the next year, we bought a house, paid off our cars, got raises and promotions at work, saved some money, and settled down - really settled down. And I presented my ultimatum again. This time he didn't hesitate. He said okay, let's do it. And I got pregnant the very first month we tried. And this pregnancy was strong and healthy from the start. It sounds like a cliche, but we, he and I, believe this was the way it was meant to be. That first time -- it wasn't meant to be. We weren't ready. Our lives were too unsettled. I was impatient, P felt pressured, and it just wasn't right. The second time, everything was perfect.
I did, as I mentioned earlier, agree to one compromise in all this, however. That we'd only have one child. P panics at the thought of having any more. He thinks he's finished. He'd like to get a vasectomy, but hasn't (for some reason). And now that B is growing up, it makes my heart ache a little. I loved having a baby. I loved being pregnant, nursing, changing diapers, everything. I'd do it all again in a heartbeat. I'm expecting to be sad about it. But it's something I know I'll get past - if not over. B will probably grow up a little spoiled and over-indulged. She's an only child (mostly) afterall... And unless the planets align *just right* at just the perfect moment, and a host of other miracles occur simultaneously, she'll probably remain an only child.
But if it were solely up to me...
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