Thursday, September 8, 2011

A Letter to my Firstborn


Dear Sarah,

Sometime this month your life is going to change drastically and you’ll never know it.  Right now you are sitting beside me happily coloring while I write you this letter.  You are blissfully unaware that these special moments of just you and me are about to end.  And you’ll never remember the time when there wasn’t a baby brother around.  And while we decided to put you and your sibling close together for this very reason, it doesn’t change how hard it is to think about how this time in your life is coming to a end.

Sarah you’re never going to remember how we use to curl up on the couch together and drink milk every morning.  How even though you are a toddler now, during that morning milk you still let me hold you like a baby.  How you’d get angry with me if I went to the bathroom without telling you first.  You won’t remember how getting ready for bed meant at some point either reading books or watching a show snuggled up between mommy and daddy.

 As long as you can remember there will always have been at least 4 in our family.  And that breaks my heart a little because these past 20 months have been some of the sweetest most memorable moments in my life.  For the past 20 months you and I have been inseparable and neither of us would have it any other way.  You have been my sidekick on shopping ventures and long car rides.  And I’ve been your favorite playmate and beloved book reader.  You’ve stood outside the shower door with your hands against the glass waiting for me to finish and I’ve cheered and laughed with excitement when you’d find me during a game of hide and seek.   We’ve crawled around the floor together and rolled on a blanket in the yard.  We’ve splashed at the pool and slipped in the tub.  We’ve practiced new words and how to follow directions.  We’ve had our fights and our frustrations but they always end with a kiss and saying “I love you” (you even started saying it back just this week).  For 20 months I have been your best and sometimes, only friend and since daddy’s in school and gets home late there are many days when you’ve been my only friend too.

The more I write this letter, the less traumatic the whole bringing home your first sibling situation seems.  I think it’s because you’re not meant to remember these sweet times.  I think they are meant for me to always remember.  Because one day, and if I’m lucky it won’t be until you’re a teen, you’re going to look me in the eye and scream at the top of your lungs that you hate me.  And the best I’ll be able to do is smile and say, “I know dear” as I hold back the tears.  Then you’ll grow up, and look back on that moment and feel bad and wonder why I didn’t reach across the table and kill you.  And it’s because I’ve got 20 months worth of wonderful memories of the time when it was just you and me and my presence was the center of your world, and your smile was the light of my life.  And so in those moments as you grow older and things get tough and you’re at your worst, I’ll always see my little girl at her best.  I’ll see you in your PJs, curled up in the crook of my arm, watching Mickey Mouse Clubhouse.  I’ll see you grabbing a book and backing yourself on to my lap for us to “read please”.  I’ll see your little hand reaching for mine as you take me to something you want when I can’t understand what you’re saying.  I’ll see your face with your little lips puckers up as you say, “muuuuh” and give me kisses.  And I’ll always see you dancing around the living room waving your arms while we sing silly songs at the top of our lungs. 

Sarah no matter how our family grows, I will always grow to love you more and more each day.  This I promise.

I love you with all my heart,
Mom

1 comment:

  1. She is one lucky girl and he will be one lucky boy. This blog was so super sweet....I probably cried. - Sandra

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