The toughest decision I’ve made

When Henry was about a year old, Greg and I started to talk about having another baby. We were out on a walk, pulling the kids in a wagon, and they were so darling together, with Eleanor singing and Henry giving hearty belly laughs. I imagined Thanksgiving and Christmas with three kids or get-togethers in 20 years with all of those adult children.


I have a hundred blog ideas, but when I sit down to write, they become too heavy or political or revealing. I’ve wanted to write about Henry leaving the baby stage behind, about reading as a form of protest, and about my fear that our country is headed for some sort of civil war. For now, I am going to write about the future because I’m trying to focus my energy there.