"Can a baby play with me?" he asked.
"Well, not for a good while," I said. "But eventually."
"Then, no." he said.
He changed his tune a few years later:
"Mom, when are you having another baby?" By that time, I felt as if the window had closed. "You and Margaret are at an easy age now, but babies are HARD."
"You're only 36," he said.
Then, "You're only 37. You know if you had had one when you were 36, the baby would already be one by now."
Aargh.
Margaret was less pushy about the baby thing, but after I told her about China's one child policy, she figured that adoption was the best way. She wouldn't just get another sibling, she would get a SISTER!
She wrote on a piece of paper in Sharpie, "ADOPT GIRL FROM CINA" and stuck it on the fridge. It was spelled wrong, but the meaning was clear. Jack added his 2 cents to the bottom in pencil, "no."
I'm not sure whether this meant Jack was anti-adoption, anti-CINA, or whether he was holding out hope for a brother, but the years just continued to add up and our indecision became a decision.
Same conversation every year.
38
39
40
Jack said, "Have another baby, you're only 41!" just two weeks before the accident. I told him about my old eggs, but he wasn't buying it.
So, I'm guessing he's pleased with how things are unfolding, even though he would be 17 years older than this baby. He won't be here to play with him, drive him places, and help his mom out. But I do think he will be watching over all of us. And Margaret won't get the sister she always wanted. But there will finally be three of them: Jack, Margaret, and, Baby Brother.
It's interesting to think of those conversations over the years. Was Jack's unrelenting pressure because he wanted another playmate, or was it because deep down the tug of the universe was letting him know he didn't want Margaret to be left alone?
It's a mystery.
And I'm adding it to my list of questions for when I get to heaven.
