Six Years

LG turns six tomorrow. I'm a little stunned, actually, to think about that. Six.

Six years ago today I was shuffling around my apartment, reluctantly packing a bag to take to the hospital, knowing that the next time I came home--five days later, it turns out--I wouldn't be alone. I wasn't reluctant about becoming a mother; I made the choice to become an SMC young (I was 27 when I decided, 29 when I started trying), and without reservation. But after a year of trying and a miscarriage and then an APA diagnosis, I was completely freaked out to go to the hospital, for an early induction, and have a baby. Luckily, other than the c-section I didn't want and a mild case of jaundice for LG, that part of the story turned out fine.

I'm now 18 months into the process of trying to have a second child, the one I wanted to be just five years younger than LG. If I get lucky--is there luck, after eighteen months of treatment?--they'll be close to seven years apart.

I usually show LG pictures from her birth and those first days at home on her birthday. Usually they make me nostalgic. Right now I think they'll make me envious. Of the woman I used to be. I love LG dearly. But I'm more than ready for more.