Thursday, June 2, 2011


One month from today, my baby will turn two years old. And in the same month she turns two, she'll gain a sibling as well. Last night, as this realization settled down around me, I suddenly burst into tears. Because for the first time, I realized that my time with Annabelle - with just her - is rapidly coming to an end. Jess, Annabelle, and I all have something in common: we're all firstborns. And until I had my own, I don't think I fully comprehended how special that really is. I got my mom to myself - all to myself - for a few years. Of course, I don't remember minding one bit when three live dollies came to join our family, but how wonderful those firstborn years must've been for us.

These two years with my Belle have been unparalleled. We've been blessed with a ridiculously good little girl, one whose maturity and comprehension have always been far beyond her months and now years. When she was very tiny, there were two common compliments from strangers: (1) She's so beautiful! and (2) She looks so wise. Even strangers could see the wisdom in her eyes, the way she didn't just look at you, but somehow through you. She has an old soul, and watching her grow is a rather extraordinary experience. She's been the greatest joy of my life. Ever. Being her mother is unlike anything I could've imagined. I truly do enjoy every day shared with her. When I have to leave her for hours at a time, I feel a distinct loss, as though a chunk of me is missing. I ache until I can be with her again. She is my tiny friend, one who is always there. And I love her for it.

The irony of this situation is that this deep love that became rooted in my soul the instant I saw Annabelle is the same love that motivated me to have another child, this same child that will interrupt the firstborn years. And as I've said before, my worry isn't that I won't have enough room in my heart for this little baby rolling around in my stomach; indeed, I already love this baby to the depths of my soul, sight unseen. I just worry that Belle's equilibrium will become unbalanced, that in the whirlwind of diapers and burp cloths and spit up and bottles, she'll question my love for her. My hope and prayer is that in these two years, her daddy and I have wrapped her so tight in love that in the first weeks of adjustment, she'll still feel safely swaddled, that she'll know our love is constant and forever for her, that there is literally nothing in this world that can change the fact that we would do absolutely anything for her. Because I'm sure that's what made it so easy for me to welcome my first sister. I had no reason to question my mom's love for me, and so I simply didn't.

I hope Annabelle knows that her place in my heart is forever defined. There is a space all hers there. And I hope she knows that I will treasure every minute remaining of our firstborn time. And then the minutes after too.

Post Script: In a slightly unrelated note, I'm so proud of this, written by my mom. She is the most brave and strong woman I know, and I'm so lucky to call her my mom. I'm so excited for the road ahead of her, as unplanned by her as it may be. I have a funny feeling it's going to be amazing.

1 comment:

lichelle said...

Your family of firstborns is about to be invaded. How delightful!


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