You might have noticed that you don't have a sibling. Or not, I don't know, you seem to feel that the dog is your sister. Will you be okay with that in the long run? I don't know, but I hope you are if it comes to that.
After you were born, I wasn't sure if I wanted to have another baby. I mean, it sucked. A lot. There were a lot of things about our "birth experience" that were not optimal, and that could potentially rear their ugly heads if we decided to have another kid. Or not - pregnancy is strange that way. But your father was more than sure that he didn't want to watch me go through all that again; I, at least, had something to do for most of it, he just had to stand by and watch me (and subsequently, you) suffer. As far as we were concerned, only crazy people had another kid straight away.
But last year I started thinking that yes, I wanted you to have a sibling. I have one, your Crazy Uncle Darcy, and your father has a sister. Both of us, your father and I, are about 3-1/2 years apart from our own siblings. Crazy Uncle Darcy and I were default play companions during our childhood, not so close as teenagers, and get along famously as adults (albeit infrequently). I started to feel that it was important for you to have that childhood playmate, that one person who truly understands the particular brand of insane your parents inflict on you. And maybe that one person who will be a shoulder for you to lean on when your parents are old and really nuts.
Unfortunately, about the same time my body began behaving rather strangely. Strange, as in, "not conducive to planning pregnancies". I went to my doctor and received a rather dire diagnosis, which cemented my desire to have another baby. Like, NOW.
Your father, surprisingly, agreed. He said he'd been talking himself into it, too. I just hadn't been around for the conversations.
Sadly, we are still baby-less. In my head, in my ideal timeline, I'd be giving you a sibling in the next few months, or maybe around the 3-1/2 year old mark, mirroring my own experience. (I'd like you to be out of diapers, maybe. Do you think you could work on that?) I'd be bloated and complaining of heartburn right this instant. But it's not looking...fecund, shall we say.
And, perhaps this is selfish of me, but I don't want to be waking up 5 times a night to feed a newborn when I'm 40. There is a rapidly narrowing window of opportunity here.
So, sweetie, we really want to give you a little brother or sister to torture. But you might have to make do with the dog.
(At least she's easier to replace.)
(Oops, did I say that out loud?)
Posted in conjunction with ControverSundays over at Perpetuas.