This is your last week to be the baby, and even in my excitement about your little brother, I’ve got a little lump in my throat thinking about how it might feel to stop being the baby, at least at first.
When I found out I was pregnant with Brynn, Toby was 6 months old. He had blown my mind by being born relatively healthy and then being developmentally on track, not to mention totally capturing my heart, and so I was thrilled to be pregnant and still, in a strange way, resentful of this new baby coming and stealing his thunder so quickly.
No one could have explained to me the way thunder can’t really be stolen. The new baby came in with her daintiness and her drama and totally wrecked us, and still, Toby thundered. And always, in the deepest places, there is such a passion for my R2, with his challenges and his woundedness and his triumph. No one could have explained to me how 3 different children can all individually hold a death-grip on my heart, how taking care of them, loving them, would become as natural as breathing.
The dynamic does change, though. Sometime in the next week, a new little person will become my baby. And my current baby will have to grow up, a little bit.
For the last few days, I’ve been holding her a little bit closer, letting her act like a baby, and trying very, very hard not to tell her to take a hike when she does very, very annoying things. I know these moments are so fleeting, and I’m trying not to waste them.
My girl. My baby. You will always have your place in my heart, even if my lap is taken. Also, there’s perks! I’m getting you a GREAT baby.