Updated: Aug. 21, 2023
Originally Published: June 3, 2023
When my oldest son, Ethan, was just 4 years old, he developed a fascination with marble mazes. He collected several sets: a beautiful wooden one, a flimsy plastic version, a hand-me-down from a friend, and a few others. Hours could pass as he immersed himself in YouTube videos, where he would watch marbles navigate various intricate paths, his eyes glued to the screen, captivated by the mesmerizing movements.
Those days feel like a distant memory now. Ethan is 8½, and the simplicity of our time together has faded. The days of endless play, just the two of us, are gone. Now, he juggles school, friends, homework, and swim lessons. Despite my efforts to maintain balance, his free time is no longer what it used to be.
Additionally, Ethan now shares my attention with his younger brother, Oliver. Although my partner and I make a concerted effort to ensure quality one-on-one time with Ethan, it’s just not the same.
Recently, while tidying up Ethan’s room, I found myself enveloped in a quiet nostalgia. Surrounded by his belongings, I spotted his collection of empty paper towel and toilet paper rolls, meticulously organized on the windowsill. He had been asking us to save these so he could build a massive marble maze. Seeing them there, waiting in silence, brought a wave of emotion. I reminisced about simpler times and longed for those fleeting days of his early childhood.
But as I snapped back to reality, I was struck by the practicalities: How could we possibly find the time to construct this elaborate maze? Building it would require hours, additional materials, some physics knowledge, and—considering Ethan’s perfectionist tendencies—likely a few tears. Moreover, Oliver, still just 2 years old, would need to be out of the equation entirely for us to focus on this project. With our busy lives, that scenario felt highly unlikely.
We waited five years before having a second child. We always intended to have two children, and being young allowed us the luxury of time. My husband, Mark, and I both have five-year gaps between our own siblings, creating a harmonious dynamic that we hoped to replicate.
Financial considerations also influenced our decision. When the Great Recession hit, Mark faced a pay cut and lost several part-time jobs. It never felt like the right time to expand our family.
Yet, beyond logistics, there was a unique magic in those early years with Ethan. As first-borns ourselves, Mark and I poured all our energy into him. We engaged in countless learning activities—teaching him to read, explore history, and even tackle art and science projects.
Eventually, we had to convince ourselves to have a second child. I knew I didn’t want to regret not expanding our family. However, I’ll admit that I didn’t feel any overwhelming desire for another baby; it was more about adhering to a plan.
Ethan took 18 long months to conceive. So, when it was time to try for Oliver, we braced for a similar journey. To our surprise, we conceived Oliver on the first try. I was taken aback and felt a sense of panic throughout most of the pregnancy. Although I wanted this new baby, I was protective of Ethan and apprehensive about the impending changes.
As you might expect, once Oliver arrived, looking at me with his curious eyes, my heart melted. All my fears dissipated at that moment, replaced by love for my new son. However, I was right about one thing: my relationship with Ethan had undeniably changed.
I still cherish our bond and prioritize one-on-one time with him. Each night, I lie beside him as he shares his day, his dreams, and his thoughts about the latest video game that has captivated him. Yet, I still find myself mourning those long, uninterrupted days we once had together.
Despite the changes, Ethan and Oliver have developed the sibling relationship I always envisioned. They do squabble, of course—Ethan had to place those paper towel rolls on a high shelf to prevent Oliver from claiming them. Still, they share beautiful moments, playing together on the bed or at the playground. I watch as Ethan sometimes takes on a nurturing role, teaching Oliver new skills and ensuring his safety.
While I may grieve the loss of our exclusive time, I know that expanding our family was the right choice. Most days, we strike a solid balance, giving both children the attention they need. I’ve often wondered if I would have regretted not having a second child—my instincts tell me I would have, as I always envisioned two kids. Interestingly, I’m starting to feel pangs of baby fever again—something I didn’t experience when Ethan was Oliver’s age.
With summer approaching, we’ll finally have the time to work on the projects we used to do together. By then, Ethan will have gathered enough tubes to create his marble maze. I can envision it attached to the wall above his bed, and I know he’ll invite Oliver to join him in launching the marble down the maze. Together, they will watch in awe as it twists and turns, and perhaps Ethan will guide his little brother’s hand, allowing him to catch the marble at its end.
In conclusion, while I reflect on the bittersweet transition from being an only child to having a sibling, I recognize the complexities and joys that come with family life. Each stage has its challenges, yet love continues to flourish in unexpected ways.