Saturday, August 13, 2011

There are some things that just can't be written. Though god knows I try. But some feelings are too big and directionless to put down properly - it doesn't all come together, it disperses in so many directions there's no way to pin it down and hand it to you properly. It's not for you, I suppose, and there's no solution, so to speak, the problem is too multi faceted to try and explain.

Bodhi broke my heart today, he's recently aquired a new baby cousin and now he wants a baby brother too. He asked me the other day, and again this morning, could we have another baby. I told him all the reasons we can't - well, not ALL the reasons, and when I talked about being tired and the baby not sleeping and needing all the attention, and too much care, he pulled out the old 'but I could look after him, I would, please, please let me look after him.' I told him it might be a girl, and he finished the conversation by joking that he'd be happy with 200 little sisters. He's loved babies since he was small, unlike his sister who is massively uninterested. It's so hard - I feel horrible, on one hand, that he wants it so much and he won't have the chance to be a big brother - and he'd undoubtedly be a wonderful big brother. But he doesn't understand how much he'd have to give up.

In terms of being the middle child, and losing my attention, and straining the not enough cash situation even further - but also the fact that he doesn't realise that if there was another baby, it would come from a new family, not ours, and there would be more loss, more leaving, he would get a sibling and love it but not be able to live with it all the time. How confusing and hard that would be for us all. Not to mention the PND. So. No babies. But it's sad for him. Sad for everyone, in all sorts of different ways.

And then I watched a video of him I took a couple years ago, and oh. My little boy. Just the same face, but chubbier, cheekier, little sweetie baby voice and so many fewer words. And his hair. God. Killed me. It's not that he's not still cute, of course, but he's four, not two, and the difference is so huge. I am slayed. I've forgotten what it's like - you think your children basically stay the same, even though their growing confounds you at the same time. How can they reach up to here, and here, and here. One day he'll be taller than me and I won't remember any of what he's like now - they're all ages at once, I suppose. Six foot, and a babe in arms at the same time. Yet, I don't really remember what it was like to hold him as a baby, in truth. Isn't that awful? I wish I had more video, more photos, even one of those creepy newborn-replica dolls. Seriously, I got an urge for one of those like each of my children the other day, just so I could remember what it was to have them in my arms as tiny ones. I know, I know, I was alarmed at myself.

I'm not sure why I feel so upset about this - other than the fact that it just sort of highlights the deadendedness of my particular situation, somehow.


Ms. Moon said...

My god. This is so deeply-pulled out of life and soul and so well-said and written.
I wish I had a magic wand, Jo, and all of the questions would be answered. I don't.
But somehow, they will be, and in the meantime know that you are loved and are loving.

laughykate said...

Wow. Incredible post.

I remember, being about four, trailing around the house after my mother - on more than one occasion - saying, 'Have another baby! I'm bored, why don't you have another baby?'

I distinctly remember it, I wanted a living, breathing doll.

However I got over it, have always loved being the youngest. It kind of defines who I am.

Annah said...

My boys go through phases of asking for another baby in the house. It is heartbreaking for me too, and them I guess. And Cal had a fear that his Dad would have another baby with his new partner and he would be cast aside somehow. So so sad.....

Jo said...

Oh, wow, thanks, guys.

Mary, that was so lovely, thank you. I wish for that magic want too. And the love!

Kate, I know you're right, really. Being the middle child is no fun, he just doesn't know it :)

Annah, ach, it's a hard one. Patchwork families are lovely in theory, but only if everyone's happy to work together - and you all live right next door :(

Janine Ashbless said...

I'm moved by your sorrow Jo, and your ability to write about it. The way one small thing signposts the totality of the situation that's so difficult for you.

But I also want to say that your guilt about Bodhi is misplaced. A child's desire for a baby brother (or indeed, a dinosaur book) may be sincere and heartfelt, but it's not the same thing as an adult's hormonal/instinctive desire to have a child. It's not even in the same ballpark. And you shouldn't mistake one for the other.

When I was little I wanted a pony. Passionately, and for years and years. Did I get one? No. Did my parents lie awake at night racked with guilt at their inability to fulfill my dreams? I very much doubt it. From my current adult perspective, did I have a deprived childhood? Did I heck.

Bodhi will grow up and have his own kids ... if he still wants them then, which certainly sounds likely. But that's his job, not yours.

matthew said...

Stop feeling guilty over things Jo.
Or by jeebus, i'll come back to Ireland and shake you. shake you real good.

Jo said...

mat, it's not about feeling guilty, you've missed my bemoaning point there.

Mwa said...

Ah, Jo, big hug!

laughykate said...

Oh girlie, where have you gone?