I am sitting at a French Bistro with my sister, who in my opinion happens to be WAY too beautiful and really, God could have distributed the genetic wealth a little more fairly, but anyway…..

The banquet room is crowded with women of all ages…..estrogen is thick in the air and every time a male waiter walks into the room his eyes dart around quickly, as if trying to remember where the emergency exists are…..you know, in case we all start menstruating at the same time (Even God couldn’t save him if that were to ever happen).

We are at a friend’s baby shower and the centerpieces are gorgeous, the food is rich and fattening and for some reason I keep hearing this super loud ticking that gets in the way of every conversation I am trying to have.






My uterus is whispering to me “I am ready, you know you want to.” My heart is nodding in agreement, “Babies have the best smell. Do you remember how tiny they are? How amazing it is to hold them close to your breast and let the unconditional love permeate your cells right down to your soul?” My voluptous (my blog, my adjectives) tummy hisses “DON’T EVEN THINK ABOUT IT!” and my pocketbook shakes in fear.

I was not expecting this.
I am tired.
I have two kids.
I have two very wonderful, loving, full of life kids.
I have a child with autism who has very specific and special needs.
I love my children.

So why did I, in the middle of that quaint bistro, begin to question our decision to be done? Why did I tell people that we were 90% sure that we were finished? Why did I leave Babies R Us with a heavy heart when I realized that I would not be wielding the registry gun again?

Because I would, if we could, have another. I would, if we weren’t worried about the very significant risk that our third child would end up having autism. I hate that the statistics are against us and that we can’t just try for a little girl because if we did we might sentence her to a life of speech therapy and neurologist visits and ABA intervention and sensory deficits.

And this makes me angry.
And embarrased.
Because I have many blessings to count. I am a lucky woman with a family I adore. I have more than enough love in my life and so when I started to feel resentful about these genetic limitations, I was unpleasantly surprised.

Life is a process. And a significant part of my life is facing simple yet powerful truths, like, another baby would be put at huge risk for autism, a risk that we are not willing to take.

So i have to accept that we are……… done.
And that makes me grieve.

Because it’s not really on my terms, is it?

But I know that the children we have been gifted with are here for a reason, and they fulfill us as parents in ways we never could have imagined.

So as I carefully navigate through emotions that continue to startle and sneak up on me, I need only to look across my laptop as superman mows down a pudding cup to be reminded how TWO is the perfect number.

Plus, when my sister finally decides to procreate, I am so taking the registry gun away from her.

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3 Replies to “Bistro Baby Blues”

  1. Oh, Jo. This was so beautiful. It’s in God’s hands.

    PS. Don’t email be at sbcglobal. I rarely check that account. Smooches babe. Send pics of the fam soon!

  2. did i just read a taking the registry gun away from your sister portion of this heart warming entry? you’re talking about a fellow control freak here…you know that if i cant laser tag the mass produced “gag me its so cute” binkie bonnet onesie tosie sets of sea green myself, im most likely destined to go into premature labor.

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