Here is some news: awhile back we made decision to remain a family of three, and as of yesterday, it's inked in Mike's ball-blood. That's my elegant way of saying that he had a vasectomy. We didn't really tell people we were doing so beforehand, but it's not a secret. We've known for sure for some time that this was the family that felt right for us, and maybe it seems quick to seek a permanent solution, but we didn't arrive at it lightly. As with many things in life, when you know, you know.
The thing is, I always thought I wanted a big family, at least three kids. And then I had one, and I realized I just... didn't. I was done. I haven't been wishy washy about it since the day he was born. We kept the option open for two years, and when nothing changed for either of us, Mike volunteered his fertility for the chopping block, the mensch (poor choice of words, Mikey?). Maybe if we had started younger I might have felt differently about it, but I didn't, and this is something that I strongly feel is right for me, for us.
Everyone has an opinion about it, which is why we didn't say anything before the procedure. And I understand why they do, I mean, the people who love and care about us. It's not out of busybodyness, but out of concern, for us and HR. It's out of fear that we'll grow to have regrets, that we'll miss out on what a bigger family could do to enrich all of our lives. And you know, maybe we will. But I'm not worried about that. I'm really not. I'm thrilled to go forward in this life adventure with my husband and son. Because even though we choose to limit our nuclear family unit, we are not alone. We have family and friends and we have buckets and buckets of love. We are absolutely complete. It's ok if this makes you sad or if you think we are wrong, I don't blame you. All there is to say about that, really, is don't feel the need to let us know since a) it's too late and b) it's really, really not anyone's beeswax, no matter what the intention. I don't mean for that to sound defensive, I just want to everyone to be at peace. We're good, you're good, let's party.
I don't think that our decision is the decision everyone should make. I can only say what's right for us, and I apologize if I've ever passed judgment on people's decisions about family size. I might not agree that 20 is a good number of kids to shoot for, but I don't have to carry or raise that brood and as long as those who go that route are doing so with love and responsibility to all those lives, there's not a thing I can or should be able to say about it. And I still love babies, always will. Only it's other people's babies now. I'm so thrilled that my friends and relatives are doing their part to populate the world with gorgeous special marshmallow monkeys for me to hold and smell and eat up. I can't wait until the day that my sister or brother make a special announcement (spoiler alert: not any time soon), and I'll be happy to take their little ones off their hands for days at a time. And then give them back.
As you know, I have an amazing relationship with my siblings that I wouldn't trade for the world. It was definitely a consideration we kept on HR's part, knowing that because of us he won't have a chance to have what we both did. But in the end, the possibility of him growing up to be bffs with a brother or sister wasn't a good enough reason on its own to have another kid. We'll do just about anything for him and his happiness, but giving him a sibling just because it seems like we should didn't make the cut.
I don't intend to turn this into a parent-of-an-only-child-blog any more than a blog about day boozing and watching dancing shows. But the details of it will creep in as we go forth, making it just another strand in the rich, fascinating tapestry of my life. And now it's out there and I can get back to what's really important.
Boy bands of the 1970s, obviously.
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