A Little Longer, Be My Baby

I get the comments every week, when I'm out toting my golden haired boy.

Are you going to cut his hair? 

Are you tired of him being called a girl? 

Long hair - isn't that, y'know, girly? 

I know I have a different perspective. What can I say, it's those three years I spent at law school with all those cute boys with Bama bangs. I just love a man with a good head of hair and now I have the most darling little man with the most darling curls (and very impressive bangs too).

I really didn't face this question with Zuzu since she didn't even have any hair until she was 2. David had more hair when he was born than Zuzu did until 2.5! Now I admit, sometimes his mane gets a bit unruly...

...but I'm trying hard to wait until he is two to cut it. I know, I know that as soon as it's cut, the baby curls will be gone - and suddenly he will look much more like a little boy than a little baby. But he still feels like my baby - especially now that I have a big girl to compare him to, and I can fully appreciate the swift and fleeting nature of time. I don't want to let that go. If my tendency with Zuzu is to push her to be more mature because she is the oldest child I have, then perhaps I do have a tendency to baby David, as he is the youngest child I have. 

And perhaps many other moms with subfertility can relate to this: I'm constantly wondering if he's the last baby. Now, we've been deeply blessed to have two children - certainly we are far ahead of where my OB said we would be, six months before we were engaged. You'll never have children without serious help, and even then we can't count on anything. In fact, we've been so blessed to have gotten pregnant four times and be holding two healthy children in our arms, that at this point, we count on having more. We have started to think when, and not if. 

But in the back of my mother's mind is always that worry - what if he's our last? What if he never gets to have a brother, or Zuzu a sister? What if this is the last baby I get to hold at 18 months, the last one to nurse to sleep? There's a thought that all those "whens" might be wishful "ifs" instead and that years from now, I'll wish I had those damp post-nap curls to run my fingers through. That nagging thought means I'll be keeping him my baby, for just a little longer.