I continue to subject myself to the ups and downs of attending a local playgroup. On days when it is the "same old faces", I do pretty well. But, since it is a drop-in, some days are crazy, with too many kids and too many pregnant bellies. But the promise of socialization for BB and the possibility of friends for me is too much of a draw for me to let it go. And I am a creature of habit.
As I load BB into the car and drive the 10 minutes to the group, I try not to wonder what the next 2 hours will bring. I try to keep myself in a positive frame of mind. I already have a pretty good idea who will be there and what the conversation will sound like.
There will be a lot of discussion of pregnancy and babies. There will be certainty in the tones of the speakers: when they have their next baby, when they get pregnant again. There is no if. Sometimes it rolls right off my back; sometimes I choke on the distance between my reality and theirs.
Today, as we drove, BB listened to the music on the radio and gazed with intent interest out at the passing scenery. The sun shone with the promise of summer. Without warning, the image of another boy, an older boy, a big brother, was there before my eyes. My heart lurched. I had no choice but to smile at the boy who is here, to turn up the tunes, and to try to sing the heartache away.
This is my life. One boy, not two. No use in crying; may as well sing.