This past week, the Kiddo and I went to Frankenmuth, MI, to partake in some Christmas joy before the end of the holiday season. This is one of our traditions, mind, you – I’ve gone to Frankenmuth every year since I was a child, and he’s gone every year since he was in utero. It’s fun to just walk around Bronner’s and downtown Frankenmuth, to spend time looking at the lights and picking out a slab of Frankenmuth fudge, you know, just the fun stuff.
But this year, my son broke my heart.
When he went to see Santa in Bronner’s, he originally had a list of three things – a deer, a dog, and a “real” sword. He’d been asking for all of those for a few months now, so I wasn’t surprised (he’s not getting any of them, by the way, but he did get a cool sword, and I’m looking into stuffed dogs for him), but when we got up to Santa, he changed his tune.
He asked Santa for what I thought was a Bambi, and I translated it as such when Santa couldn’t hear him. It wasn’t until I was leading him away that he started to cry and told me he hadn’t asked for a Bambi, he asked for a baby.
I jokingly tell him to stop trying to steal babies because he adores them – he’ll lead them around by the hand and play so nicely, or calm them if they’re crying, little things like that. Moms of babies think he is absolutely precious, and he’s often touted as the ideal big brother. He’s the sweetest thing with a baby, and he’s asked me time and time again if I can have a baby. I always say no, because I feel like it would be worse to give him hope and watch it die off…
So now, apparently, he thinks the only way he can get a baby sibling is by asking Santa to bring one.
I held it together, all through the rest of Bronner’s and Frankenmuth, until he fell asleep on the drive home; then, and only then, did I allow myself to bawl. All this time, I’ve only thought about my husband and myself, and how we’ve felt with trying and failing. I never thought about how it could affect him – heck, I never thought it would affect him! I didn’t have this issue growing up – I always knew my parents were never going to have a child after me, so I never really thought about it, and my husband’s parents were divorced (plus his mom never remarried) – so it never once crossed my mind that our son could want a sibling just as badly as we want to give him one. It’s not something I expected.
Anyway, I just thought I would share a hard thing I learned this holiday season. Even though we’ve been dealing with secondary infertility for over five years now, there are still new feelings and new territories to be crossed. I can only hope that one day, the finally territory will be beating it, but in the meantime, I’m just going to have to wait.
Thank yall so much for stopping by, and have a good one! Bye!