When the kid was born she was one of many babies around us. A cousin of Joe’s had a daughter the same day, just a few hours before, an old friend I went to elementary school with had a son two days later. Before I found out I was pregnant we had celebrated the pregnancies of two of Joe’s old friends – both of those babies came to our shower.
All of these people have something in common: Every single one of them has had a second child. (And they’ve all had girls, which is interesting but not the point). I am thrilled for all of them – healthy, beautiful babies and beautiful families.
Meanwhile I’m thinking about planning the kid’s third birthday, who to invite and what to do with all those kids.
And in the back of my head I go back and forth about whether having an only child makes sense. I don’t feel a tug to have another baby, I don’t miss that stage. There are things I miss about it, but there are so many great things about the age she is now and everything she’s learned. All I can think about when I think about adding a baby to our life is how much more difficult it would be with a toddler in tow.
But she plays with her baby dolls and had imaginary brothers and sisters. She once asked me if she was going to be a big sister and I told her I didn’t think so. Her reply? “I bet I will.”
It seems to me that having a second child just because your first asks you to is not a great strategy. I mean, she’s also asked for a cat.