Mom of Two (my story continued – 26)

This is both kids, a few months ago at Disney.  They were born long before digital pictures, and I don’t have a scanner, so all I can do on the computer is deal with the relative present.  Which is probably just as well.

I was living far from home, had bought a house, and had a second child when I was 26.  I am an only child, and I’ve always hated it.  It was important to me that Erika have a sibling.  I tease her that she asked for a baby brother.  She didn’t really.  I had wanted a girl so badly, I was sure Erika would be a boy.  That’s part of what I want to touch on in the part of my story and for all of my life.  I tend to think that if I really want it, I won’t get it, and can’t have it.

I did get my girl, though, at the age of 23.  To give her a sibling was an awesome dream of mine.  I became pregnant very easily.  That’s interesting, too, because infertility runs strongly through my family.  Again, I thought, if I really want it, I won’t be able to have it.

When I was pregnant the second time, I was completely and totally in the girl mode.  Really I couldn’t imagine having another child, but if I could imagine it, I could only imagine another girl.  When Erika was a tiny baby, I was convinced something terrible would happen to her, the way I was convinced my plane would always crash.  I just couldn’t picture having a five-year-old daughter, happy and healthy and going to kindergarten.

These thoughts did not dominate my thoughts at all.  In fact, I rarely thought them.  But when I did think about it, the feeling of impending doom, so frequent when I drank, had not left me completely.

So the baby was conceived.  A few months after that, my ex lost his job, the job we had moved so far away for.  The job we had bought a house counting on.  For my second pregnancy, a second job loss.  And all the fear and bad things that go with it.  And a house, far, far from where I wanted to be.

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