Dear My Second Born,
You changed my life, my heart, and my soul. You took an experienced mother, broke me down to the brim, and then you did something incredible; you built me back up- with lots of tears, lots of smiles, lots of kisses, lots of snuggles, and with a whole new vision of life. You, my son, changed our family.
I was experienced. Motherhood didn’t scare me; I was smack-dab in the middle of being a mother already. But you, YOU scared me. Would my love be the same for you as your older sister? How could I possibly give more of myself to someone? When will there be enough time to love the both of you the way I want to love the both of you? Will your sister think I love you more, will you think I love her more?
My fears were foolish. Because if I learned anything as a mother already, it was how easy it is to love, how easy it is to give your all to something else, something much bigger than yourself. My love for you was immediate, and having you to complete our family, made me content. But we didn’t know each other yet, and that made me sad. I didn’t have 100% of my time, nor did I have 100% of my heart to give you and only you.
While our love was instant for the both of you, I had to work harder to get to know you. Not because you are hard to know, but because my heart was already taken, and my mind was already filled with memories and the knowledge of your sister. You were born shoeless, yet in a sense, already had large shoes to fill-this didn’t seem fair. There are experiences you missed out on, experiences you won’t understand until you become a parent someday and have your first child. You missed out on the emotions a new mother feels. You missed out on the excitement and the newness of becoming someones first child. I’m certain you didn’t know this, and if you did, I am sorry. But there are experiences your sister missed out on, experiences she won’t understand until she becomes a parent someday and has her second child.
You didn’t make me a mom, you didn’t come into this world with the responsibility to teach me the ins and outs of parenting. You weren’t created to teach me how to take care of a child. You came second, so these tasks are filled by your sister. But you, my sweet little boy, taught me much more than that. You taught me how to compromise-compromise my time in the middle of the night when you and your sister both want mommy, compromise my emotions when both you and your sister need mommy’s full attention and heart. You taught me how to grow– grow my lap to fit the two of you at the same time, grow my wallet to fulfill the needs you both have, grow endurance to keep up both physically and mentally with the energy and speed you two have. You taught me how to slow down- slow down enough to see you exploring the backyard while testing out new textures, to slow down enough to cherish each stage long enough to soak it in so much that you don’t need pictures to remind you of that moment because it’s embedded in your mind and heart for eternity, to slow down long enough to see what happens the moment before you throw a tantrum, to see what happens the moment before you finally drift off to sleep, to slow down long enough to realize these moments don’t come back to take in again. You taught me how to love harder- to love your fits, your quirks, and the nights you need me. To love your ugly and your pretty at an even level; because time goes too fast, babies grow too fast, and you’re not only my second baby, your my last.
My son, you might not be the first child to be added to our family, you might not be the child who made us parents-but you were the child to complete us. Your soul shines brighter than the sun, your heart is larger than the ocean, and there is nobody in this world we would rather have as our second child.