Yes, I spoil my child. I'm perfectly conscious of what I'm doing, and I'm not sure I want to stop.
You see, I was pregnant. We were going to be a family of four. We had so many plans. Our son was beginning to understand that he was going to be a big brother. We started looking for a big house where a family of four could grow up and grow old. We started looking for ugly yet absolutely useful minivans, where we'd all fit. We started unpacking my son's old baby clothes and my pregnancy clothes. We started telling our loved ones that our family was growing.
We had so many plans.
And then one day, I wasn't pregnant anymore.
As quickly as it came, it went away.
And all our plans? Well. They changed.
Our daily lives changed too. Especially those first few days. You see, I was to have the "extraction" operation on Friday - the day I turned 34. So the plans we had with my son (to make a cake from scratch together, to open presents in the park, to go to bed late after watching a movie) were abruptly cancelled. No birthday cake, no blowing candles. No time to feel pain or sadness either, because a 2-and-a-half year old does not understand why Mommy is sad or why we can't go to the park.
My son was almost "a big boy" who slept in his bed alone. But that first night after I was no longer pregnant, I held his hand all night. I sat by his side, on the floor, and held him. My only child. And now, almost 6 months later, I hold his hand every night until he falls asleep. Because I can never hold the hand of the child I lost, I hold his. My only child.
My son is a bad eater, but I was very strict with meal times and eating at the table. But those first days after I was no longer pregnant, I didn't have the energy to fight a stubborn little boy, so we had picnics in the living room for a while. And now, almost 6 months later, it is not uncommon for us to build a castle with the living room couch cushions and eat lunch there. Because I can never have lunch with the child I lost, I have picnics with him. My only child.
My son hates changing clothes, but I always gave him fresh clothes after waking up - even if that meant new PJs. But those first days after I was no longer pregnant, I didn't want to change clothes myself - or shower - so we made it our little private fun routine. Because I can't have fun PJ-day-all-day with the child I lost, I stay in old PJs with him. My only child.
My son loves for me to carry him, and I was close -this close!- to getting him to walk by himself. And those first days after I was no longer pregnant it hurt to carry him. I was in physical pain, but also my heart hurt. Every time that I carried him, I was reminded that I would only carry one child, because I had lost my second one. And because I can never carry the child I lost, even 6 months later I carry him. My only child.
Every time I try to discipline my son and I raise my voice or I lose my temper, I remember that I will never get to discipline the child I lost. So I calm down, I lower my voice, I get down to his level and look him in the eye and try my best to explain what he did wrong. And I convince myself that I have to do this, I have to discipline and teach him - all the while thinking about the child I lost and how he or she will never have the chance to do anything wrong. Or right.
So yes I spoil my child. He rides his tricycle inside the huge house we bought for our family... of three. He builds castles in our living room. He picks apples from our garden. He runs inside the house with shoes on. He watches TV past his bedtime. He sleeps in bed with us. He eats chocolate. He spends whole days in PJs (one time I even took him shopping in his PJs. It was super fun!).
I spoil him because he is the only child I have. And I guess I want to give him what his baby brother or sister will never have.
You see, I was pregnant. We were going to be a family of four. We had so many plans. Our son was beginning to understand that he was going to be a big brother. We started looking for a big house where a family of four could grow up and grow old. We started looking for ugly yet absolutely useful minivans, where we'd all fit. We started unpacking my son's old baby clothes and my pregnancy clothes. We started telling our loved ones that our family was growing.
We had so many plans.
And then one day, I wasn't pregnant anymore.
As quickly as it came, it went away.
And all our plans? Well. They changed.
Our daily lives changed too. Especially those first few days. You see, I was to have the "extraction" operation on Friday - the day I turned 34. So the plans we had with my son (to make a cake from scratch together, to open presents in the park, to go to bed late after watching a movie) were abruptly cancelled. No birthday cake, no blowing candles. No time to feel pain or sadness either, because a 2-and-a-half year old does not understand why Mommy is sad or why we can't go to the park.
My son was almost "a big boy" who slept in his bed alone. But that first night after I was no longer pregnant, I held his hand all night. I sat by his side, on the floor, and held him. My only child. And now, almost 6 months later, I hold his hand every night until he falls asleep. Because I can never hold the hand of the child I lost, I hold his. My only child.
My son is a bad eater, but I was very strict with meal times and eating at the table. But those first days after I was no longer pregnant, I didn't have the energy to fight a stubborn little boy, so we had picnics in the living room for a while. And now, almost 6 months later, it is not uncommon for us to build a castle with the living room couch cushions and eat lunch there. Because I can never have lunch with the child I lost, I have picnics with him. My only child.
My son hates changing clothes, but I always gave him fresh clothes after waking up - even if that meant new PJs. But those first days after I was no longer pregnant, I didn't want to change clothes myself - or shower - so we made it our little private fun routine. Because I can't have fun PJ-day-all-day with the child I lost, I stay in old PJs with him. My only child.
My son loves for me to carry him, and I was close -this close!- to getting him to walk by himself. And those first days after I was no longer pregnant it hurt to carry him. I was in physical pain, but also my heart hurt. Every time that I carried him, I was reminded that I would only carry one child, because I had lost my second one. And because I can never carry the child I lost, even 6 months later I carry him. My only child.
Every time I try to discipline my son and I raise my voice or I lose my temper, I remember that I will never get to discipline the child I lost. So I calm down, I lower my voice, I get down to his level and look him in the eye and try my best to explain what he did wrong. And I convince myself that I have to do this, I have to discipline and teach him - all the while thinking about the child I lost and how he or she will never have the chance to do anything wrong. Or right.
So yes I spoil my child. He rides his tricycle inside the huge house we bought for our family... of three. He builds castles in our living room. He picks apples from our garden. He runs inside the house with shoes on. He watches TV past his bedtime. He sleeps in bed with us. He eats chocolate. He spends whole days in PJs (one time I even took him shopping in his PJs. It was super fun!).
I spoil him because he is the only child I have. And I guess I want to give him what his baby brother or sister will never have.
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