I need a place to put it all down

and leave it be.

Some days, more specifically today, my head swirls around the question about whether or not our family is complete.

In the days immediately following Babel's birth, I made TH promise we wouldn't have to have another child if I didn't want to. What a kind thing for me to do, hormonal and swollen to bits, scarred from birth both physically and emotionally, and begging TH through tears not to make "us" go through that all again.

We've always wanted two kids. I used to hope for twins on the 2nd so I could con TH into a third. All that was pre-infertility, though. What a gamechanger that infertility was, though.

Now, we've been thrown another loop. Babel's cataracts are X-linked; my father had cataracts as a baby, as well. We don't know the mutation that caused the cataracts, but we do know that I'm the carrier. When I let my mind wander, which isn't often, I wonder if any of this has to do with the chemical pregnancies. If we had a boy, which I've always thought would be the case, there's a 50% chance he'd have cataracts, too.

What do I do with that knowledge?

Babel could be facing more surgeries to correct the strabismus (lazy eye) that has developed as a result of the cataracts/removal. I'm currently at home with him, but for how long? We originally wanted about 4 years between children (feel free to roll your eyes at an infertile's timeline...I certainly do), but if I'm going to stay home longer to care for Babel during his patching, eye drops, maybe vision therapy, etc, maybe it's better to bite the bullet and get things started? I've been sailing along without a plan quite happily, but after 3/4 of a year without a plan, I'm starting to need one. Is it selfish to want to know when I'll return to my career? I LOVE being home with Babel. Finances are manageable, but I think TH and I both miss a little more cushion in the budget. I think we both agree that something part-time in my field might be best, but I think we both feel a little uneasy about Babel's care for that part-time work. And how would we handle more surgeries? It was a definite blessing for me to be home for all of the follow-up (and there was a LOT). I know we'll work it all out, but until we formulate the first decisions of the plan, nothing can fall into place.

It was complicated with just the infertility. Now, it feels overwhelming. Give Babel a sibling who may be his closest confidant in all that he'll experience in life? Give him a sibling who may not have the same vision issues? Would one be better than the other? When I think from Babel's perspective, I don't think he'd be concerned. I just see him with a brother, two little boys getting into mischief and growing into tall men that kiss their mother when they enter her kitchen on holidays after a long time away.

Is that my answer? Because in all the times I have tossed these questions and scenarios around in my head, I've never put myself in my son's shoes. What's wrong with me? How did I miss that important perspective until just now?

Babel is nothing short of amazing. Yes, I'm his mom and am biased, but there's just something about him. I've been saying this since he was a fresh group of cells in my belly. Babel has not been upended with the events of the past few months; he's steady, strong, determined, and unfazed. The adults around him, save myself mostly, have been in turmoil. And I think while I haven't been caught up in the emotions of the diagnosis and treatments, I think I'm getting caught up in these family building questions, as the true infertile in me knows how. We're currently half keeping an eye on any potential for a pregnancy and half throwing caution to the wind. Perhaps my answer is to keep things open and to just figure out what we want to do about my working situation. Maybe Babel's companion will help work everything out for us, if we start to work things out for ourselves.

I can't help but feel I would be completely okay with Babel alone, but part of me feels that's selfish. That's the easy road for me. When I think about an older Babel, I see him with his arm around a little version of himself, a companion through the years. Two sweet boys that are the best of friends. I see this image vividly and frequently, and maybe to consciously choose against it isn't the way to go. But when I see this boys, I don't see their faces. Maybe I don't really need to think about their eyes. Maybe I need to listen to what I've been saying for weeks and remember that their eyes aren't going to define them. In that image, they are just there, together, leaning on each other. Isn't that all that matters?