I’m writing this as much for me as for anyone else. (Which—I won’t flatter myself—is probably true of much of my blog. But still.)
There are few changes more difficult than welcoming a new sibling for your child (or children). But there are also few changes more beautiful.
When I was pregnant with my son, I wept often over the thought of losing all the one-on-one time in the world with my firstborn. I ached to think that she might be confused by the amount of time I was suddenly spending with someone else. She was only 18 months old, and while she didn’t often show much jealousy when we were with other kids, I knew it would be different when it was all the time and in our own home.
I was so frightened that she would be hurt by my inability to immediately meet her needs. I have never been a helicopter parent—my daughter was delightfully independent at that age and didn’t need me to fulfill every tiny desire. But, with only her to look after, I was always there to quickly kiss ouchies and play games and read books. What would she feel when a newborn forced me to respond to most of her requests with “Give me a minute” or “I can’t right now, honey” and an exhausted sigh?
Of course, I knew that there would ultimately be more love blossoming in our family. I knew that a sibling would be the greatest gift I could give her. And I already dearly loved the baby boy I carried. But it’s just too hard to set aside the inevitable loss of something you know so well and focus only on the promise of something you can just barely see around the corner.
When her baby brother was born, my daughter excelled in her role as big sister. We had (and still have) incredibly difficult days, and juggling them both was no picnic on any day, but the bright spots far outshined the dark ones. We shared so much joy. It was true that I couldn’t always jump to meet my daughter’s pleas, but I did see her develop a beautiful sense of compassion when it came to the baby’s needs. And while we no longer spent so much uninterrupted time together, the time we spent as a family of four was even more fruitful than I imagined.
Given these lessons, I thought the change would be easier this time. I’m pregnant again, expecting our third child here on earth, and I spent almost the entire first half of this pregnancy afraid for this baby. But we’re 21 weeks along now, with all signs pointing to good health. As I’m feeling this little lady moving throughout every day, the reality of her impending arrival is truly sinking in. And as my fear for her safety begins to wane, my fear for the waves that are on their way to my family is growing.
This time, my kids are well accustomed to knowing that, sometimes, their sibling’s needs are more pressing than their own. They know how to share—toys, time, and treats—and they don’t expect to do exactly what they want to do all of the time.
But, as it turns out, this time I’m afraid and sad for different reasons.
Another baby will mean changing up sleeping arrangements, and I’m heartbroken to think about splitting up my kids into different rooms. They’ve been together for as long as they both remember, and I know it will be hard on them not to be.
Another baby will mean I can’t hold both my kids’ hands when they need me, or when we’re out and about and I need to keep them close.
Another baby will mean a new routine: no more all-at-once morning wake-ups, no more all-at-once evening bedtimes, and no more all-at-once afternoon naps (at least not for a while). My family thrives on routine, and I know the first few months with a new baby—when routines last no longer than a few days or a week before becoming obsolete—are extremely stressful for all of us.
There are birth plans, childcare logistics, feeding demands, sleepless nights, and many other complications to navigate. There are team dynamics to sort out with my husband, patience and sharing battles to negotiate with my children, and self-care routines to rediscover for myself.
As a rule, I’m not good at change. It makes me cry and shiver and stomp my feet. But, despite the challenges that lay ahead, I know that this change will bring great things to my family. Having embarked on a similar change once already, I have the benefit of hard evidence to help me feel more certain of that bright future. Doesn’t mean I’m not scared, though.
So we’ll see how this one goes. I’m sure that, with a lot of prayer and a lot of love, we’ll be okay. Even if we aren’t at every moment along the way.