The Littles and I are in full swing preparing a barbecue by the time The Dear Daddy gets home. We have hot dogs and burgers on the grill, and chips and dip and baked beans and all the fixin's for a Memorial Day feast.
The Littles are in the house playing and The Dear Daddy joins me at the grill. He's ready to talk. He doesn't know if this pregnancy is a good idea. And for good reasons. There's my age for one. And we already have two high needs kids, and how will a new baby take away from meeting their needs. There's a financial concern. How are we going to manage the expense of another baby? What if this one also has autism? And retirement? If the Littles stay home while they go to college we were looking at a retirement age in our early 60's. If the new one goes to college we were looking at the 70's at the earliest. And what about The Other? Could we really stand to lose this one after we'd been through the hell of losing The Other? And my health. I'd had a stroke less than 6 months ago. The Dear Daddy says he can't stand the thought of losing me. And what about The Littles? They need their Mom. How will he know how to raise them if I die? And what if I die in childbirth and leave a new baby? What then? I was glad he was finally talking, but it did little to reassure me. Still, it was really good that he was finally willing to talk.
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