Loving Two

I saw this "Loving Two" entry posted on another blog last year and absolutely loved it. It's been sitting in my blog drafts since then. I've talked with many friends about this- how fiercely we love our first born children and how we wonder if there is any room at all left in our hearts for others. Well there is room because our hearts grow even larger.

I've had so many moments in the past few days where I've felt my heart pause and grow. As I'm nursing Sylvie and Brady goes running by on his toddler feet but stops for a moment to locate me and either tell me what he's doing, "I go get my fire truck Mommy!" or just to give me a smile as he zooms by. When Sylvie opens her eyes and stares at me with genuine interest and my heart remembers what Brady looked like when he did the same thing. When Brady leaned in to kiss his baby sister when she was fussing and said, "It's okay. Brady make it better. Okay Sylvie?" When Brady's little hands pet Sylvie's little hands. I know these are stored in my heart's memory but I wish I could capture them all in writing before my mind forgets.

Just now, I had another of these heart-bursting moments. Brady just went down for his nap and I was cleaning Sylvie's clothes after a messy diaper. There I am standing at the sink rinsing her clothes while I held her in one arm. She's hungry but being patient. I hear her sweetly sucking on her hand trying to pacify her hunger. Behind his closed bedroom door just a few feet away, I also hear a happy little two-year-old voice singing Baa Baa Black Sheep to his animals as he transitions to nap time. I paused to truly absorb all of the love and joy that my heart was feeling at that moment. Loving two is more amazing than I thought possible.

LOVING TWO

I walk along holding your 2-year-old hand,
basking in the glow of our magical relationship.
Suddenly I feel a kick from within,
as if to remind me that our time alone is limited.
And I wonder, how could I love another child as I love you?

Then she is born, and I watch you.
I watch as the pain you feel at having to share me as you have never shared me before.

I hear you telling me in your own way,
"Please love only me" and I hear myself telling you in mine "I can't."
Knowing in fact that I never can again.
You cry, I cry with you.
I almost see our baby as an intruder on
the precious relationship we once shared.
A relationship we can never have again.

But then, barely noticing, I find myself attached to that new being,
and feeling almost guilty.
I'm afraid to let you see me enjoying her
--as though I am betraying you.

But then I notice your resentment change,
first to curiosity,
then to protectiveness,
finally to genuine affection.

More days pass, and we are settling into a new routine.
The memory of days with just the two of us is fading fast.
But something is replacing those wonderful times we shared,
just us two.
There are new times -- only now we are three.
I watch the love between you grow,
the way you look at each other,
touch each other.

I watch how she adores you, as I have for so long.
I see how excited you are by each of her new accomplishments.
I begin to realize that I haven't taken something from you,
I've given something to you.
I notice that I am no longer afraid
to share my love openly with both of you.
I find that my love for each of you is as different as you are,
but equally strong.
And my question is finally answered to my amazement.
Yes, I can love another child as much as I love you, only differently.

And although I realize that you may have to share my time,
I know you'll never share my love.
There's enough of that for both of you
--you each have your own supply.

I love you both and I thank you both for blessing my life.

---Author Unknown