Missing a Baby Roberta

Molly had 2 friends over Friday night to celebrate the end of the musical, one of her friend's swimming season, and her hiatus from the symphony. As an aside, you know you have three great kids in your house when they spend half of the sleepover jamming on their violins and cello. They created their own arrangement of Over the Rainbow, performed it a few times for Jeff and I, and are excited about showing their orchestra teacher tomorrow.

One of the things they did was watch Ramona and Beezus. Adorable movie. If you have girls, I recommend it heartily. Anna and I watched it the next day. It was just a sweet, sweet picture of family.

There was the ever patient mother (that's who I pretend to be). The funny dad who is such a great father of daughters, in our family played by Jeff. The smart, pretty and perfect big sister (Beezus aka Molly). The spunky, unique, and adorable Ramona/Anna.

But if you are aware of Cleary's late addition to the book series, Ramona Forever, you are aware that another family member shows up to round things out perfectly. Baby Roberta.

In the movie played by a chubby and darling baby with blue eyes and dark sticking up hair. Remarkably similar to another baby whose presence graced our family (Annie!)

But there is no Rozelle comparison to Baby Roberta. And it made me really, really sad.

Having a baby is all wrong for us for so many reasons. I'm 36 which now catapults me into triple high-risk status with my past pregnancy history. I am not exactly a fertility goddess. Both of my children were really hard won. I'll stop there if you promise to trust me that we aren't the best candidates for a biological baby #3.

But there's a pesky biological clock ticking loudly in my ear. I try to fight it. I try to submerge the "ohhhh--me too! please me too!" when friends announce baby #3 and baby #4. I try not to love rocking my friend Sharon's baby to sleep. And I tried really hard not to picture a Baby Roberta equivalent in our family. But I did anyway. And she fit in so perfectly.

Let me be clear. My children are a gift and a blessing. I remember marveling at the wonder of holding a perfectly healthy Anna in my arms sitting in my hospital bed and barely being able to believe that this baby was coming home with me. I swore I would be content forever. I thank God and modern medicine that my Molly is healthy and with us today. Jeff and I have discussed all the good reasons to add to our family by adoption or foster parenting, or just keeping our family the way it is.

This blog would be nothing if it weren't honest, and I firmly believe that women need to be more honest with each other, especially about these kinds of things. I am strong and healthy except when I'm pregnant. I have career plans. I have two other daughters' awesomeness to finance. I have places to go and races to run. And though I trust that my life will be well-lived without another baby in our family, it doesn't mean that despite the terrible ungratefulness of this sentiment, sometimes I deeply wish for one more miracle.