A letter to … My son on the eve of his sister’s birth
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Version 0 of 1. I have been thinking very hard about how your little world is about to change. For two and a half years, our eyes have been on you, every morning, every evening, overnight, checking your damp hair after you’ve snuggled under your duvet, wiping every snotty tear and cuddling on the couch. After tomorrow, you’ll be going from being our little boy to our big boy, big brother, protector, sibling, sharer of our attention but not our love as our hearts expand to include our growing family. You started our little family, she will complete it. I still remember becoming a big sister myself: I was almost eight and so it was very different to the way it will be for you. Your father was 10 when his first sister came along, and neither of us know what it will be like for you. I remember how much I hated sharing the limelight, vowed that my brother ruined my birthday party when all the girls wanted to pass him round rather than play pass the parcel. My feelings culminated in a trip to A&E after I pushed him over and he needed stitches to fix the cut above his eyebrow. I was nicer after that. For the most part. Your father has a kinder soul than I did back then and was more accommodating in his adjustments to his new family. I know that this will change you – for the better I hope, although it may not seem so at first when you get told “be careful”, “be kind”, “not right now”, “in a minute”. I’ve trawled through friend’s memories, online blogs, baby groups looking for advice on how to make this easy for you. You have already told me that you are too busy for a baby, and I can see that you are taking big steps forward into independence. I hope that when the dust settles, you will enjoy our new family experiences. This week, we have been spending time together doing things, you and I – just the two of us, me and my tiny sidekick. I am sad that it will no longer be just us, but I am also excited about what the future holds. And as I look back, what will I do differently this time? I’ve found, when I think about it, that I can’t remember what it was like when you arrived. Those first moments, I’m sure I sleep-walked through it all – I can’t quite remember how you were. It’s as if you’ve always been exactly as you are. You love to look at the photographs of yourself when you were small – the beautiful egocentricity of the toddler universe. I know this time round to take more video and feel glad to live in a time when I can soak up moments of film to drink in later when the memories fade. We had a rough start when you were born and so your sister’s birth has been organised in advance. I know you’ll be off gallivanting with your beloved granny, getting up to tricks of which I would most definitely disapprove, but I’ll be taking a minute to get an extra big hug in the morning. You rock my world, little dude, and will be holding your hand in mine to take the big jump forward to this new step. With all my love, Your mummy |