About Nadine Silverthorne
Nadine Silverthorne’s love of journaling began in Grade One with the entry, “I am the greatest dancer!” Two babies (and countless diaper changes) later, she has found her home away from home as editor of SweetMama. Don’t miss her humorous bi-weekly accounts of the joys and pains of working while raising them fabulous.
The Maybe Baby
silver spoons canada
(Aug.09.10)
“Let’s make a life list,” I suggest to my sister. We’re buoyant after getting two side-by-side seats on a sweaty, smelly rush hour subway car. I’ve been reading the life lists of others and about how those who write down their dreams are more likely to have them come true. It seems like a fun way to pass the time.
“I’d like to ride bikes through Europe with the kids some day, sorta like Family on Bikes,” I offer. We ramble on: cooking classes in Italy, sushi in Japan, and neither of us has an interest in South America – except for beef in Buenos Aires. (The after-work hunger clearly drives the direction of the dreaming...)
Then the voice in my head chimes in during a moment of silence. “Psst... Another baby.”
WHAT?!
Ludicrous, I tell my brain. I thought we’d decided. We’re done! I no longer have the pangs of longing when holding a friend’s newborn. We’re four, it’s nice and round. The world is built for four after all. Win a trip for a family of four. Seat four comfortably in small or mid-size. One parent per child caregiver ratio; one child per human ecological ratio. We’re good! We’re great!
But growing up with a sister and knowing how wonderful that relationship can be has me a little uncertain about my childbearing career at times. I would love for Lucy to know the joys of having a sister. And so there’s this phantom child that lurks around as a possibility. The Maybe Baby.
I find myself picking out names that I like, names that we haven't used. Eek! Could I do it all over again? Could I be OK with the necessary minivan, the bigger house, the greater responsibility and financial burden? Should I consider taking the next steps?
"Imagine Lucy as a middle child," my sister offers.
And that seals the deal. The door is closed, again.
