I Survived

Last night something happened that I didn't even know I was dreading.

And I survived.

As only moms-of-onlies can, I have been anticipating and trying to plan for the day when J asked about a baby brother or sister. I knew that one of the following statements was bound to come out of her mouth at some point over the last 5 years:

"I want a baby brother/sister"

"Why don't I have a baby brother/sister"

"I wish I had a baby brother/sister"

"Mom, when can I have a baby brother/sister"

And, sure enough, she has uttered all of those at one time or another. I think the first time was when she was 4. I've been able to casually answer in generalities. Things like, "Maybe one day", and "I don't know when, jennabear", and "I know you do, honey, but I'm so glad I have YOU."

It wasn't so bad.

I was not at all prepared for what came out of her mouth last night. We had some friends over, my friend and her two adorable girls, and they had all been playing hard for a couple of hours. It was getting close to bedtime, fussiness had set in, and those tears that are often associated with friends leaving the house had started. The two sisters were talking about their new bunk beds and how J needed to come over to play on them. J burst into tears, covered her eyes with her hands, and screamed at the top of her lungs:

"I WISH I HAD BUNK BEDS. I HATE BEING AN ONLY CHILD!"

I felt paralyzed. I didn't even know she knew the words "only child". I glanced over at DH, who shook his head and walked inside. I think he was probably afraid I was about to turn into a puddle and melt into the driveway. I wish I could have. Sometimes that feels like it would be easier.

But instead, I did what all mothers do. I pulled myself together and tended to my child. I swept her up into my arms and felt her heaving sobs drenching my neck. My friend and her girls got their stuff together and headed home, all the while J still crying into my shirt and gripping tightly to my neck.

We went inside and sat at the table while she ate dinner (yes, it was bedtime, she hadn't eaten yet, and she had been playing outside for 4 hours straight...). She said it again.

"I hate being an only child, Mom."

I summoned up all my courage, and began to talk. And to listen. We had a quite a lovely conversation about how families come in all sizes, and that not all siblings have bunk beds, and if she really wanted bunk beds we could look into getting them for her room. We talked about the good things about being an only child, and the things that she thinks would be fun about having a sister (only a sister, definitely not a brother). I told her that Aunt Tam and I didn't have bunk beds when we were kids, and that sometimes we weren't very nice to each other either. She wanted me to tell her about some times when we weren't nice to each other, so I told her about the time my sister was 3 and I was 5 and she hit me on the head with a roller skate, and about the times when we were in high school (me a junior and she a freshman) and shared a car and I would leave her at home if she wasn't ready on time. J loves hearing those stories.

After about 5 minutes, she seemed content and ready to move on. Kids are so, so wonderful in that way. They just don't hang onto stuff much - at least mine doesn't.

I'm sure there will be other times, in sadness or anger or frustration or loneliness, that those words are uttered. And it won't be the end of the world. I can deal. It's taken me 5 years to learn how, but I can manage it now.