We are in that golden period in which my two children are the same digit. For 63 days they share a number. This year it is 6. You see, my children are 9 months and 27 days apart. Every family has its story. That is ours.
It is debatable whether biologically speaking it is possible to have children that close together. I have been told it is both possible and impossible.
For us, it was the blessing of the adoption of our son, soon followed by another miracle… a pregnancy, which produced our daughter. I was forty-two years young.
Watch: Things mums never say. Post continues below.
When my children were infants and toddlers, random strangers would often offer unsolicited advice in the grocery store line. I confess to occasionally divulging that my children were less than 10 months apart. Then I would wait as their eyes widened in horror.
“You tell your husband to leave you alone!” …one woman said fiercely.
It gave me a bit of a naughty…ha ha — particularly on those days when I could have used a pep talk while juggling one child in a grocery cart and another in a baby carrier on my chest.
With the news of my pregnancy, I’m not sure if anyone was happier for me than our son’s birth mother. I had been with her on several of her check-ups before our son was born. She and I bonded over the boy yet-to-be.
I remember watching the ultrasound as we saw our son for the first time. My husband and I so overcome with emotion we couldn’t speak, while our son’s birth mother smiled at us from across the room. A young woman of twenty, who had chosen us by gut instinct and faith to be the parents for her child, our son.
When I told her of my pregnancy, she laughed with surprise and joy. She told me how happy she was that I would get to have the experience of carrying a child. She wanted to share that with me.