« Final score: "desperate" 4, "implant" 4, Oprah 0, Alexis kind of a lot | Main | Something must be terribly wrong »
10/15/2007
Brothers
At day care, Charlie has a classmate named Henry. (Actually, he has two named Henry, plus a Ben, a Mateo, an AJ, a Caroline, a Lillian, an Eden, and a Jahsaiah. I am currently taking bets on how long it will be before Jahsaiah defaults to Joe, or goes on some sort of wanton spree because, damn.)
Anyway, Henry's mother is pregnant. The baby is a girl, she told me at our last potluck. "Do you have a name chosen?" I asked. See, I'm absolutely aces at this small-talk-with-pregnant-women thing.
"Oh, we're letting Henry name her," she told me, eloquently rolling her eyes. "Henry has named the baby..."
This is good, y'all.
"...Foxy."
"Perfect if she wants to be a stripper," drawled another mother.
"Even better," I said, "vice president."
So I go into Charlie's room one morning and he proffers his sock monkey. "This is my baby sister."
"What's her name?" I ask.
"Foxy," he says, the duh unspoken but obvious.
It started a while back. I can trace its origin exactly. It was while we were at my mother's house the week of my father's funeral. Charlie was in the den with his cousins, the youngest of whom asked him, "Don't you want a baby brother or sister?"
Until then, it simply had not occurred to Charlie — beautiful almost-3 narcissist — that it was an option. Since then, he's mentioned it several times, with varying degrees of casualness. Yesterday while we did housework together, he asked over the roar of the vacuum, "Do I have a baby brother?"
Believe me, kid, you'd know it, I thought, turned off the vacuum, and said no.
"Why not?" he asked in the tone he uses every time he's thwarted, an offended, entitled whine that would make me itch to slap him if I weren't such a patient, empathetic, understanding parent, perfect in every way, ideally suited in every particular to raise this miraculous creature.
"You just don't," I told him. "Some people do, like your friend Joseph — he has a new baby brother. Some people have a baby sister. Henry's going to have a baby sister soon, right? But other people don't have a baby brother or sister."
He sat on the back steps to think about that for a few minutes, and I turned the vacuum back on to finish in the hallway. He watched me work for a moment. Then, histrionically — almost-3, remember — he said, "I am so sorry I don't have a baby brother."
Yeah, well, so am I.
I have two brothers myself, one older, one younger. In the first few days after my father's death, my older brother, P., took charge, talking to the police, writing the obituary, calling the insurance company, arranging the funeral service, managing the thousand baffling details that suddenly all must be addressed right this very moment.
This was very much in character for him; he is a person who gets things done, feels his responsibilities keenly, and does not let his family down. It bothered me at the time; the swiftness of it all offended me — like, shouldn't we take a few days to say, Holy shit, what just happened? But that feeling didn't last. It was completely clear that those things did need to be taken care of quickly, and any pique I felt was quickly supplanted by gratitude that he stepped in without a fuss to do what had to be done. I know he was grieving, no less than any of us; that may well be how he dealt with it. Doing something.
When we talked last year about what it could mean to have only one child, many of you said that the idea of losing a parent factored into your feelings about it. That you didn't want your child to be alone in the world when you die, for example. Or that you didn't want your child to have to face the harrowing process of caring for an aging parent without the support of a sibling. Those statements didn't have much meaning for me then, not having experienced any of that yet myself.
Now I understand it better. Watching my brother take care of things, I was acutely aware that every phone call he made was one my mother didn't have to. He did it, I know, for our mother, but he also did it for me, and for our brother, T. He was the one who requested the coroner's report; I was the one who called every night and asked Mom how her day was. Said, "Yeah, I cried today, too."
We each did what we could, what came most easily to us, to help our mother in those terrible days. Between us, I think, it might have been enough.
I can't honestly say that any of this has intensified my desire for another child, a sibling for Charlie, since it was already plenty strong. I am, however, newly aware of that aspect of things, newly appreciative not to be an only child myself. Not to be my mother's only support. Not to have to face the paperwork, the daunting bureaucracy, of a loved one's demise on my own.
My mother, incidentally, is making her own will. She asked me if there were anything of hers I specifically wanted. "Mom," I told her, "there's only one thing I want, but I really, really want it. Please: Make P. your executor."
My friend T. has told me she's glad she has a sister because when their parents die, "she's the only one who'll hurt like I'll hurt." The only one who'll have lost what she's lost.
I think of that, and then I think of something Paul's sister once said, in an attempt to reconcile their differing impressions of childhood: "Each child in a family actually has different parents," depending on many factors. Personality, sex, birth order, parents' age — variable after variable influencing how we all relate.
And both things, I think, are true. My brothers lost the same person I did, the steadfast protector, the frustrated critic, the teacher, the storyteller, the tough act to follow, the man who often asked us, "Have I told you lately how much I love you and how proud I am to be your dad?"
But. We three are different people, requiring different things; in a real sense, we had different fathers — varying, perhaps, in only the details, but I feel the details matter. The hole in my brother's lives has a different shape than the one I feel in mine. They don't hurt quite like I do. No one ever can.
Of course, Charlie will be fine, whatever happens, whether this upcoming cycle gives him his Foxy or not. We all pretty much are, right? Even in deepest sadness. I think — I hope — we don't really miss what we never have. Especially an almost-3 Charlie, who, as he helped me coil the vacuum cord yesterday, just moments after being "so sorry," asked me, in all seriousness, "What is a baby brother?"
Comments (93)
Verify your Comment
Previewing your Comment
This is only a preview. Your comment has not yet been posted.
As a final step before posting your comment, enter the letters and numbers you see in the image below. This prevents automated programs from posting comments.
Having trouble reading this image? View an alternate.
Oh boy. You are all kinds of right, Julie. I am an only child, but married to the younger, forgotten son--the one who does everything he's supposed to do, makes the right choices and the right moves and does it the right way while his older brother flounders. It's clearly a case of the squeaky wheel getting the grease, but my husband is hurt by the fact that his screwed-up mess of a brother gets all the love and support and praise that his parents have to give. Each child in a family most definitely has different parents, because kids' needs are so vastly different. We are struggling with how to do it differently for our own kid, and for any that might come after him.
"Have I told you lately how much I love you and how proud I am to be your dad?" What a wonderful memory to have left you with. We lost our mother last month on the 17th, and it's memories like that that keep me going.
That is a most excellent ending.
I'm an only child, and I find siblings endlessly fascinating. I see how close my husband is to some of his siblings, and I also know how grieving their father's death pushed my mom and her sister apart forever. Close siblings are wonderful, I think, but just the fact of having one is no guarantee that big life crises are easier to handle emotionally. From where I sit.
Oh Charlie, if you only knew what you were wishing for- someone to eternally mess up your toys and take away Mom's attention. But, they do have their perks. I really hope that Mom doesn't actually name her daughter Foxy.
One of my dearest friends married a guy named by his older brother. We did her wedding programs and found out his full name was Christopher Robin LastName.
Could have been worse. Like Foxy.
And to Molly's point, I'm also married to the good kid, the first kid, the one who follows rules and remembers birthdays. There are some days when he envies the other two, the only daughter and the Last Baby, who went through varying degrees of fucked-upedness and still managed to get away with murder.
I can't believe Charlie's almost three. Do you know how many hours that means I've spent reading your blog? Me, neither, but I'll bet it's a lot.
When our father died, I distinctly remember standing at the grave with my (younger) brother while it was being filled in and crying to him, "Now we are alone in this world - we only have each other." As worlds apart as we are - we do have each other.
Lovely post, thanks for reminding me how proud I am of my grandchildren. I just sent them an email telling them that and how much we love them
I had to laugh at what is a baby brother.
My grandparents let my dad and his big brother name their baby brother. One wanted Danny, the other wanted Richard, hence Daniel Richard. And the names my grandparents chose of their own accord? Jerome Joseph and James Eugene. My dad and uncle never did care for the Jerome and Eugene parts, so it's not always crazy to go with the kid's choice for a name.
About a year before he died, my dad came to visit us in the NICU, where my teeny boy filled his eyes with awe. I was having a fairly hellish time, what with ill-fated lactation, a tough pregnancy, the whole preemie business, etc. My dad said I was Supermom, and it was the single sweetest thing he'd ever said to me. (Not a demonstrative man.)
My son wants a brother, but he can't have one.
And also? My son has a classmate named Alexxsys. And I think the little boy named Gene actually spells it Jean, but it's not pronounced the French way, so it's more of a 1950s girl name.
Oh, and are Jahsaiah's family Rastas? Because if they're not, then there's absolutely no rationale for that spelling.
With a name like Foxy... yikes. Let's hope it's going to be a nickname.
As always, I'm amazed with how you handle things. No matter what happens, Charlie's going to be ok, though I hope very much he has a brother or sister of his own soon. I know how much you'd love that, and how much he'd grow to love that.
Yes, to everything you said. This post spoke to me on many different levels- as a sister who lost a brother, as a child who lost a parent, as a parent who desparately wanted more than one child.
My son was about Charlie's age when he started asking for a sibling- probably because that's when all his friends started getting siblings. Then it took 3 more years, and now that he's got siblings, he wants nothing to do with them and hates that we've ruined his life by bringing in these "Intruders" (his words, not mine.) I keep hoping that when he's 25 (maybe sooner?), he'll be glad, but who the hell knows? I know I had more kids because I desparately wanted them (so it wasn't just to give him siblings), but damn it would be nice if I didn't feel like (and he didn't so acutely verbalize that) we totally ruined the good thing he had going.
Wow, the names of the kids in my son's day care class match half the names in Charlie's. No Jahsaiah, though!
This post is great food-for-thought for those facing big challenges in their quest for a second child (me).
Damn. I'm never having another child but 1) my daughter wants a baby sister and 2) your post kind of makes me wish that she was going to have one. But, at 46, it's not happening. Not.
Beautiful post. Thanks.
Okay, my daughter's name is Talitha, which is weird but nice, and there is a girl in her class whose name is...I know I'm close, but it may still be wrong...Aspasia?
(I kinda like Jahsaiah)
I am an only chlid. I do not feel alone in the world, even when it comes to dealing with the death of my parents (which hasn't happened yet). I have my husband, and many friends who have known my folks a long time. I don't know that my grief will be better or worse, not having a sibling with whom to share it. I guess time will tell.
I love your blog. Charlie is a funny kid.
My cousin's 3-year old son independently started calling his soon-to-be baby sibling (didn't know if it was a boy or girl) Joey four months into the pregnancy. When the baby turned out to be a boy, Joseph it was!
It's not just she'll hurt like I hurt.
My sister shares my memories, and not just the big ones -- not just the wacky trip to Europe, but the time they took us on their bikes to the ice cream store and it was closed. The times they yelled at each other. The food our long-dead grandmother let us eat. Amillion billion things. She knows why I think something is funny, why something makes me cry, why I'm fat.
It's because she shares it all with me that I know it wasn't all a dream.
Wow, the names of the kids in my son's day care class match half the names in Charlie's. No Jahsaiah, though!
This post is great food-for-thought for those facing big challenges in their quest for a second child (me).
Witness.
That's the word I couldn't find. I think that, for some people, even some who didn't have a terrible childhood, a sibling is a kind of a witness who reassures you of your own sanity.
They're not ACTUALLY going to name the baby Foxy, are they? Cause I know someone whose older sister named her "Ticket" and she's not pleased about it, to say the least.
Your words are so eloquent, as always. I don't know what I'd do without my sister. The person who can roll her eyes with me behind my mom's back, who will take care of all those details when something happens to our parents, who will "hurt like I hurt".
And I laughed out loud at the last part of your post -- I think once "Foxy" gets here, Charlie might not be so sad that he once didn't have one, Hahahahaha...
from my experience as an only child, i wouldn't trade it for anything. i have the best relationship with my family of any of my friends, and i know i owe much of that to being the only child. now i have an only child myself, a bit older than charlie. (my ex-husband has had another child since we split up, but i am the primary custodial parent.) and from this side of the fence, i am realizing now that some people are just "only child people" and some are not. i can't imagine splitting my attention between two children right now....i don't think there's enough of me to go around. the hardest thing about being an only child for me was actually all the disapproving comments i got from friends and classmates while i was growing up. "what's wrong with your MOM? doesn't she love you? can she not have any more?" (aren't children little bastards sometimes?) i would chalk much of that up to living in a mormon community where 8-kid families were the norm and having one (or none) meant we weren't going to the highest heaven or something. but really, societal disapproval was far more difficult to cope with than the lack of a sibling. my friends are wonderful and supportive. and, interestingly, many of them are also only children. we've talked about this, and the consensus among us is that it's been great. i just get frustrated when i hear or read things like "having only one child," i find that a bit insensitive. there's nothing lacking in my family. there's nothing wrong. in fact, it's ALL right, as far as i'm concerned.
Coming out of lurkdom - I'm an only child. In the last 5 years, I've lost both of my parents and I can only say that it's an odd thing to no longer be someone's daughter. No one has experienced EXACTLY what i've experienced. But for all the pain and heartache, I've learned so much about both my parents and myself. i can't say that i'm thankful to have learned it. I can only say that I've survived and I am a better person for it.
Oh, this was just such a lovely post. I love how you can wrap humour and pathos so tightly into the same breath... just love it.
I'm really relieved to be carrying a third son, because my 3 yo insisted that a baby sister would have been named "Darth Luke."
Whenever I hear people say they want to have multiple children so that they can love and support one another as adults, I grieve for the relationship I wish I had with my sister. She has major mental health and addiction issues, and I am not mentally or emotionally strong enough to have a relationship with her as she is right now. Our childhood was hard, really hard. I was lucky not to inherit the crap mental health genes that run through my mother's side of the family. I was lucky to make and keep good friends in high school, and to stay away from drugs and alcohol until I was older - and even then, I had safe people around me as I experimented. My sister didn't have the same luck. I am very close with cousins, aunts and uncles, but my sister? Not at all. I hope this doesn't sound self-pitying or hostile, but giving your child a sibling does not guarantee an adulthood friend.
Ah, yes.
I wouldn't swap my brother for anything or anyone, though now that DS is here I'd jump in front of a bullet for him first, if one were flying at both DS and DB.
I always, always, always thought I wanted two, for many of the reasons you mention, and to give mine the opportunity to have a relationship like I have with my DB.
Now that DS is here, it is so fabulously wonderful that...oddly...I am OK if it turns out he is the only one. I do mostly hope he will not be, but it is far from obvious that I am willing to go through what it will take to get a second (IF issues, obviously).
And realistically, his dad will be 57 at least by the time we have #2, which seems like a lot to ask of a man. Though I may yet.
I hope you, Paul, and Charlie will be welcoming Foxy in the near future.
Beautiful post once again Julie.
Y'know, over the summer S started saying at daycare that she wanted a little sister. And then she "adopted" the new infants in the group as her little sisters, which was just fine with me.
I think that whoever said that there are only-child people and not only-child people is right... and I'm pretty sure I'm an only child person. I was never sure I wanted more than one, and then the unexplained PTL and micropreemie experience really put us off the idea of another bio kid.
That doesn't mean, however, that my uterus doesn't do flips when I see my 3 year old very sweetly holding the entire arm of her friend's 7-week-old sister and saying, "I just holding her hand, Mama."
I know so many well-adjusted and happy only children. But for me, I cannot imagine life without my dear brother.
When we decided to have children (i was insanely naive and waaaayyyy less bitter but that's another story and for my blog) i always said i wanted at least two. This decision has a lot to do with why we are adopting. We want to put a rush order in for number one (after 2 yrs) so that we have a hope of number two.
I'm hoping that your current effort for the second is fruitful.
I am a Classic Younger Sister married to essentially an only child (he has a sister who is 7 years younger than him). It is so right on that no two siblings are raised by the same parents - even my brother and I, who are very close together in age, needed different things from Mom and Dad.
ha - that last part made me laugh because that's exactly what I was going to suggest - that Charlie might in actuality have no clue what "having a baby brother" involves, but just wants it because he heard about it. Which doesn't mean it hurts any less when he asks.
I agree on the "different parents" thing too... my siblings and I are separated by 4 yrs each (brother 4 yrs younger than me, sister 8 yrs younger), so we've never been super close and my sister definitely has had a different (read: better) experience with my mom than I have had.
Good luck on the cycle, I have everything crossed for you.
My mother died this last June. My sister and I aren't that close, but I'm pretty much a loner, so I'm not really close with anyone.
I'm the older sister and took the challenge of managing the paperwork, estate, and planning head on. My sister helped tremendously, especially with cleaning out my mom's overstuffed house.
I was surprised after the final estate sale and clean up to receive a card and handwritten letter from my sister thanking me for the hard work and all I had done, saying she wouldn't have been able to do it, and that she was proud of me...
It's weird when your little sister (always little sister, even after you're 30) tells you she's proud of you, especially after having always told you during growing up how much she wished she was an only child. I guess we can grow out of that wish, and it can turn out good in the end.
When I was going through my 3 years of secondary infertility, I would read things like this post and get sick to my stomach about the disservice I was doing to my daughter by not producing a sibling. I do essentially agree with the idea that adult siblings can often help with aging/dying parents. But siblings can also cause additional problems and heartache. When I finally came to terms with having a one-child family, I realized that having a sibling is no guarantee of anything.
I've proven my own point now- I'm almost estranged from my brother (he is involved with a group that I consider cultish and immoral) and he lives 400 miles away. I live near my parents and know he will be no help dealing with anything when the time comes. In fact, I think it would be easier to be an only. I love him, and have great childhood memories, but I am very sad about where our relationship is now.
Never underestimate the power of cousins.
Living as close as you can and spending lots of time with extended family is an excellent way to give singletons (or sibs who aren't close in age) a wider "sibling pool".
Having sibling is great..in theory. But don't wring your hands just yet. Not all siblings are a comfort. Some end up impaired by addiction or mental illness and simply complicate the elder care task once your parents are too old to care for them (TWO burdens for the price of one!). And sometimes sibling simply don't "mesh" and it never gets any better than the occasional uncomfortable phone call and meeting at holidays.
I ended up with a little of both, and I find the love and warmth I get from my cousins (witty, warm, kind survivors, all) the best balm ever for the occasional pang of bewildered "But we're supposed to be best friends, aren't we?" I feel about my sister and our cold, schadenfreud-laden relationship.
Your wonderful brothers will have kids, and Charlie will find still more fun and friendship therein. Not to mention the loving wonderful relationship he already has with his parents!
I'll be sending lots of good vibes for your next cycle.
>there is a girl in her class whose name is...I know I'm close, but it may still be wrong...Aspasia?
Aspasia? Seriously? I hope you misheard! It reminds me of aphasia, the medical condition, but kids are going to be calling her "Ass-face-ia!"
Some of us in my play group have given our kids names that happen to be characters on _Lost_. So, my Claire gets to play with Jack, Charlie, and Sawyer.
I hope that Charlie gets his sibling, so he can do the usual toddler tantrums and hair pulling on the new baby :)
And also for the reasons that you list, of course.
J
We have 2 children from IVF. And we feel 99% sure that we are "done." (We thank our lucky stars, believe me.)
However, my DH is one of 4 brothers. His dad passed away yesterday after battling cancer, and every time he was hospitalized and his huge family was crammed into a tiny ICU room, it made me think, "this is the good thing about big families." The man has an awesome legacy. Not that legacies are all about numbers, but having only one sibling myself, I don't think my own family has that dynamic feel to it.
I lost a parent recently, and having a sibling was actually a liability in that situation. Instead of having someone to lean on and share the experience or the burden with, I had a millstone around my neck, one that I will never fully be able to remove.
I have come to realize that for all practical purposes, I am an only child. This used to bother me, but I'm starting to get used to it.
i would love to have a vice president named "foxy"... so much more approachable than "dick."
sorry... on to your more serious topic. i agree with you on both counts... it does really help to have a sibling to share the loss (or in my case, illness) of a parent. that said, like you and your brother, our differences in how we grew-up and how we're dealing with my mom's cancer are part of what helps... my brother is a lot like my father... worries, reads every website, researches every treatment. whereas i am like my mom... read a novel, watch a movie, talk to friends -- but please don't talk about cancer. my brother can support my dad in ways i can't, but i can help my mom in ways neither my brother nor my dad can.
I'm an only child, and the only thing I can offer to this discussion is to say that that's the only reality I know. It doesn't bother me that there will be no one else to help shoulder the burden of aging parents, or when a parent dies, because I've never known it any other way besides doing things myself, being the only child. Coming from a reality of having siblings, that probably seems sad, or strange. But really, it's all I know, so it just seems normal. I don't wish for what I don't know.
(I did give my mother a lot of grief when I was younger about wanting a sibling, but that was because I looooved babies and thought I wanted my own live plaything.)
I wanted to add to my comment above that Susan is so right about extended family. I have 19 first cousins on my mother's side of the family, so I never felt like a lonely only child. I lived in the same town as my grandparents so I reaped the benefit of seeing my cousins frequently when they visited. My son will be an only child (by choice), and I am grateful that we live in the same city as my sister-in-law's family so that Ivan can grow up with his cousins.
Y'know, I'm fine with parents letting the kids vote on names for the baby, or even considering their suggestions (I came up with Julia for one of my sisters...though my first choice was Petunia.) but letting a toddler name the baby....when they get old, they better hope it's Henry and not Foxy who picks the nursing home.
There's no guarantees with siblings. My ideal was three children, and it seems this may require some creativity to achieve, but we're hopeful...in the hopes that things will work out well...and we'll do what we can to encourage it. My daughter would love to have a baby in the house, though she really wants a baby cat, and thinks it would be great if one could grow in my belly.
funny how grief can factor into our decisions about having children. i had one child and was very happy with that - didn't want to face the beast of infertility a second time. but my family had been through the loss of one of my siblings, and i was petrified of losing a child and then having to go on. this parnoia is what fueled my desire to go back into the ring. like having a second child makes losing the first ok. totally illogical thinking, but there you go.
Wow this was an excellent post and let me just say that I am an only child and I think about what it will be like when I loose my parents all the time. There will be no one who feels exactly the same loss as I do and that scares me but regardless of whether or not you have siblings it sucks and it always will suck and I'll get through it just like anyone else with or without a sibling would. It's nice to know I'm not crazy for thinking about that though lol
Henry's mom might be pulling your leg. If anyone asks me if we have a name for our fetus, I tell them ridiculous things like "Toaster" (or Batman?) because I really don't need their opinions on the actual names we've chosen.
Next time, I'm answering "Foxy." Boy or girl.
All I can say is, thank God my husband isn't an only child, because his mom is a b*tch from Hell, and if it wasn't for my SIL, we would have to be the ones dealing with her all the time. That being said, my husband has five siblings, but he isn't close with any of them, he gets along better with my sister and brother. Family is what you make it, and even if Charlie remains an only child, that doesn't mean he will be facing difficult challenges on his own. It just means he will have 'siblings' of his own choosing.
Egad, of course she was joking about Foxy! I thought that was clear from the eye roll! I'm glad I won't have to be the one to explain it to poor Henry, though.
<<< Next time, I'm answering "Foxy." Boy or girl.>>>
one time when i got this sort of question, i said "we're naming the baby Adolf bin Faggot. we want him to be EVIL!"
yes, i was a really bitchy pregnant girl.
(and yes, i'm just kidding, i don't hate Jews, Arabs, or gays, blah blah blah)
What an awesome post. I wish you all the luck in the world on this coming cycle.
I have twin boys, so no question on only vs. siblings. But I know this doesn't mean they're going to be close as they grow up, either.
nothing to really say. just glad you posted. i so enjoy the way you write and feel like not leaving a comment is somewhat rude. (like peeking in your windows, but in a less stalkerish way)
cheering for this cycle. wishing it was me.
Thinking positive, sibling-like vibes.
My oldest, when discussions of #3 came around, did not want another baby. Until she saw what a baby was. Then she wanted it NOW. It's amazing how we know what the meaning of 'sibling' means - but forget to actually explain it to them. :)