Old Books, New Emotions

A year ago at this time, I was busy scouring Amazon.com for books for my daughter to gently break her into the idea of becoming a big sister. Several books arrived on our doorstep in the weeks before my son’s mid-May birth, and they were as much a reality check for me as they were a cheery schooling for Lucy.

She pulled Joanna Cole’s “I’m a Big Sister” off the bookshelf a few nights ago after months of it going unnoticed. After all, she’s been a big sister for nearly a year now, so it’s old news. But Lucy was delighted to read it with me again and I instantly remembered how she would sit alone with this purple book on her lap and “read” it, having memorized the words.

I also remembered how, despite how sweet and innocuous as the book is, it used to make me freak out a little bit inside as I’d read it over and over again to Lucy.  How am I ever going to take care of two needlings when one has been all-consuming? How will I ever have enough room in my heart to love them both when I love Lucy so completely? How can I essentially displace my little girl, bumping her aside to make room for her little brother?

Looking back, I’m happy to report that everything has turned out just fine on all of those fronts. And in retrospect they were silly concerns to begin with. Why worry about how you’ll take care of two when that ship has already sailed and the baby is on the way? And clearly a parent’s heart just bumps up a few sizes with each successive kid because I still feel like I’m going to burst with how much I love them, and there’s two of them now. But I can’t exactly say how  or when these realizations hit me. They just did. And all I can do is smile when Lucy asks me to read the big sister books to her now.