No...Now

Yesterday was Sophia's 2-year well visit to the doctor. She has a memory better than any computer I own, so as soon as I started driving in the direction of the doctor's office she started crying and screaming, "no! no! no doctor now!"

The waiting room was a back and fourth attempt of crying and trying to calm herself down. When the nurse opened THE DOOR, you know, the one to the examination rooms, Sophia wailed again, but this time with a "hiiiiiiii, thank you" embedded in the scream.

After the very "scary" experience of getting her height and weight measured, we had to endure more waiting. I held her quietly in my lap and rocked her while she let out tiny, breathless sobs. I knew better than to soothe her with words, that any phrase involving doctor or almost done or go home soon would send her spiraling into five minutes of inconsolable tears. Instead I quietly kissed each lingering tear on her face, and kept rocking as looked around the examination room. There are family photos of most of the doctors in all of the rooms, and for some reason people who get M.D.s feel the need to super-breed, so each photo included at least, at least, three small children. This made me, Mom, cry.

The tears came from that stupid place inside of me that feels I can never be enough for Sophia. My husband. My parents. My sister. My friends. Sophia will most likely be deprived of a sibling because of this inadequacy, which made me cry a little more. Our family photos will not be that, shall we say, abundant with people.

I pulled it together just in time for the doctor to come in and just in time for Sophia to lose it again. The examination went great, she is advanced in height, intelligence and has no life-threatening diseases. I decided that this is what I should be focusing on...my gratitude, not my shortcomings. Sophia talked a lot again through her tears, "no steescope now," or "no bellybutton now" or "mommy's turn now" or "no ears now."

As the doctor was filling out her paperwork, she looked up at me and said, "on this form there is a box to check for impending sibling, am I to leave that blank this time?" She asked as more of a joke, considering she recently gave birth to her fourth and fifth child, and was telling me that she was tired, tired, tired. But I had a hard time taking the joke, and smiled as my eyes filled with tears. "No...now," was all I could say.