ifs

I've always wondered what if would be like if my brother hadn't been born. I never really yearned for a sibling when I was little—i have plenty of cousins, young and old, from both sides of the family to keep me company. The four girl cousins that are within a few years of my age were my best friends. We hung out every summer at my grandparents' house. I didn't need my own siblings, I have plenty already, and none of them would ever steal my parents' love and attention from me.
Despite having my mind made up, that one afternoon in 2009, my father somehow convinced me that it would be super cool to have a little baby of my own. I was hesitant at first, but he was persuasive. I don't remember why, but I was thrilled at the suggestion and went to beg my mom to make me a baby. I didn't know then that these words will be used against me for years to come, and upon retrospection, I probably didn't have a choice anyway. He just tricked me into thinking I had a say in the matter.
My new baby brother cried all the time. That is to be expected, but I did not imagine my mom would change so much. For the first three years since my brother became a part of the family, my mother seemed like a totally different person from the one I knew for the past decade. She used to be protective of me, and now she is protective of my brother. I was not her baby anymore. She used to ask me what I want for dinner, now she would tell me to make dinner because she was too tired and just wanted a nap. She used to check my homework, now she would just nod when I show her my report card and went back to spooning soup into my brother's open mouth. We only went to the mall for a half hour at a time, because my brother gets antsy and when he throws a tantrum in the middle of Macy's, people would stare as if my mother didn't understand what constitutes good parenting. Even when we did go to the mall, we could only go to Bergner's or Macy's. My brother was scared of the stores that lined the hallways because one time we took him inside Abercrombie and Fitch the week before Halloween. There was loud music, dark shadows, and eerie lights that made my brother scream and sprinted straight out the door. We did not step foot in there again until he was five. Even the black and white stripes on Sephora scared him.
Every time I wanted to go to the mall with my mom I would first have to convince my aunt to watch him for a few hours, promising that I would bring food and clean up his toys before taking him back. It was worth it. The quiet car rides without him crying in the back seat trying in vain to take of his seatbelt were well worth all the effort. My mom and I could converse and hear each other. I could wander the halls without a hand dragging me away from the dark-colored storefronts.
It was during moments like these that I would ask myself, what would my life have been like if I had said no, I don't want a sibling. My mom and I would fight a lot less, because she would be less stressed out. Right? Or would she be hovering over me, watching my every move, because there would have no one else to diverge her attention? I would be much smarter now, right? Or would I never learn to study on my own? I would have had many more extracurriculars, because my mom would be able to drive me everywhere, right? Or would I never learn to find a way to do things I wanted to do on my own?
I guess life would have been much easier had I not have a brother, but I would never have learned to be independent, and I wouldn't have a loving brother.