Spacing | slackermama . com

Anyone who has read this blog for a couple years knows that before Liam was born, we were caught in the merciless grips of infertility and loss. We went through many years of heartbreak and frustration. And impatience. I felt like I was constantly trying to beat the clock. And it wasn’t just the biological clock I was trying to beat. If I get pregnant right now, the kids will only be four years apart. For the longest time, I had very set expectations on the spacing of our children. At first, just after Harry was born, I wasn’t sure I even wanted to have another. His traumatic birth experience was still very fresh in my mind. A few months later, I thought that maybe when Harry was four we would have another. I thought that would be perfect because Harry would be going into school (giving me more time during the day to sleep while pregnant or take care of a newborn) and he would be potty trained (insert *snort* of laughter here) and I would still be under 30 (back when we thought we wanted to be done having kids by 30). By the time Harry was a year old, we were already trying. I wanted another baby and I wanted our children to be closer in age.

I never had a sibling very close in age to me. My sister is eight years older than I am, and she and I are the closest in age of all of my siblings. I wanted Harry to be able to enjoy having another child around to play with and fight with and love. And pretty soon, Harry wanted that too. All of my plans were thrown out the window. I never expected it would be so hard to get pregnant again. And I was so stubborn about taking the clomid. If I had only taken it sooner…

Part of the pain when Jackson died, that morning in the hospital when we learned he was gone, was knowing that we had no sibling for Harry. We had waited for so long, gone through so much and now when the timing seemed perfect, and now our hopes and dreams were dashed. I felt so bad for Harry. I felt we were letting him down. And my plans were thwarted which never sits well with me.

I’m a planner by nature. I like to know what’s going to happen and when and how. It drives Kile nuts. I’m sure he thinks I’m just nagging most of the time but I just genuinely want to know what happening. I have never dealt well with the unknown. Leaving things until the last minute fills me with a cold sense of dread. And I thought I’d be able to plan my children just like I plan everything else. And boy, did I have a lesson to learn.

I am in control of NOTHING. Least of all how many children I have and when. It was hard to let go of that hope and of that control. Or rather, the illusion of that control. But I had to realize that I really was at the mercy of God, of fate and of circumstance. As each year slipped by, I felt both sadder for my lost plans and more resigned to the reality of the situation. Everything happens for a reason. That’s another big one for me. I have to believe there’s a purpose. I just had to let go and let that purpose take over.

Now, I cannot imagine it any other way. The spacing between my sons seems perfect. Harry is old enough to help out and he really enjoys being the big brother. Liam thinks Harry walks on air and no one is funnier than he is. Harry is fairly independent and even enjoys doing some things for himself. And that gives me more time to take care of Liam. And I’m older too. Yes, that’s actually a good thing. I’m more relaxed and easy-going this time. I have more of an appreciation for the little things and the little moments that make up our days together.

And without that overbearing clock ticking away just over my shoulder, I find I have time to sit back and just enjoy my family. I can’t help but wonder what enjoyment that clock stole from me all those years. I hope, whatever happens, that from now on that clock just leaves me the heck alone. Whatever happens is what happens and that is the way it is meant to be.

Get the word out: