The countdown has begun. We’re just six weeks away from welcoming baby number two into our family. While my excitement to meet this new addition is immense, the reality of the situation feels somewhat surreal. With the swiftness of this second pregnancy compared to the first, it’s challenging to fully grasp what’s coming. Each day brings a greater awareness that we are soon to embark on this new adventure.
Yet, as the days pass, my heart aches a little more for my first child, Mia. Watching her grow from a baby into a little girl is bittersweet. Every day, she surprises me with new skills, phrases, and facets of her vibrant personality. My love for her is immeasurable; it often overwhelms me to the point of physical pain when I see her shine.
This is why I find myself silently apologizing to her: “Mia, I’m so sorry that you won’t be my only child anymore.”
I regret that I may not always wake up feeling refreshed after a good night’s sleep, as I will likely be up caring for your baby sister. I know there will be days when my energy is low and I won’t have the same enthusiasm to engage in fun activities with you. I’m aware that our spontaneous plans—like stopping at the playground or dipping our toes in the pool—might not always happen.
I’m sorry that my attention won’t always be exclusively devoted to our lunch dates, enjoying our favorite roasted chicken and avocado wraps together. I’m sorry that the unique bond we share will now include another little one.
As I ponder the arrival of your sister, my instinct is to shield you from any feelings of neglect or insecurity. While I know I’ll eventually adjust, I’m currently struggling to envision how I can be enough for both you and her. I’ve always been your Mama, and our dynamic has been so beautifully intertwined.
I worry that the changes ahead will be overwhelming for you—too much upheaval, too many adjustments.
But then I remind myself of something important: you are about to embark on a journey I once experienced. Being the eldest comes with its own set of challenges and joys. I’m not sorry for that because you are about to meet your lifelong companion.
You won’t remember life before her; she will become an integral part of your memories. You’ll be curious about what it was like to be an only child, and I’ll smile as I share those stories. In your sister, you’ll find a confidante who understands you in ways no one else can. Together, you’ll create your own unique language of humor and camaraderie that will drive us parents a little crazy.
I’m not sorry because you’ll learn invaluable lessons from each other—about flexibility, kindness, forgiveness, and cooperation. Yes, you will annoy each other in ways that only siblings can, but you will also teach each other patience and the courage to apologize first.
You’ll discover the joys of putting someone else first and how that often brings unexpected happiness.
I’m not sorry, because you’ll have the privilege of being a big sister. You’ll nurture and protect your sister, and in turn, she will stand up for you fiercely. You will become her go-to person for advice and support.
So, while I’m saddened that our one-on-one time is coming to an end, I choose to cherish the beautiful memories we’ve created together. You have shown me what it means to be a mother. With your sweet nature and generous spirit, I know you will be an incredible big sister.
Your little sister is going to be overjoyed to have you as her sibling.
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In summary, while I feel a range of emotions about the changes ahead, I deeply believe that this new chapter will be filled with love, growth, and unforgettable moments for both of you.