I remember my mother telling my 6-year-old self that she loved my sister and me “the same amount, but differently.” I’m just now beginning to comprehend the bittersweet truth in those words as I watch each child grow, like many types of flowers in the same garden, each requiring different care and watering. My first baby is nearly halfway to adulthood, and before the memories fade, here are some reasons why my firstborn is so one of a kind.
I got to wait for you.
In reality, you began long before you existed. Your dad and I picked out your name before we were even engaged, many months before your heart began beating. First, you were a daydream. A hope of future love fulfilled. You came into existence right as your great grandmother prematurely moved on, and the idea that maybe you passed each other on the way brings a painful smile to my face. Another strong woman in her line. I felt every weighty second of my pregnancy with you, each seeming to get longer as the end neared. My subsequent pregnancies, while cherished, seemed to speed by, caught up in the important work of raising other children. Your siblings’ names were never decided until well into the 2nd trimester. That extended period of longing and imagining belonged only to you.
Every experience was new.
Every doctor’s appointment, every physical change, every fleeting wave of excited terror (“Oh my gosh, this is really happening!”) None of that can be replicated again. So many weeks of absolute awe; at you, growing, and at me, growing. Your dad’s rough edges got shaved down (just a little), as he prepared for you. Baby books that were a panacea of “oh wow, look at this!” would never be “new” again. Information that had to be learned for you was easily recalled knowledge for your brother and sisters.
You showed me I could.
I was totally naive of my own power until it became a force unleashed upon the world. I grew you from two cells. I brought you earthside through the strength of my own body and a recently-developed determination that seemed to materialize in the exact moment I needed it. I nourished you at my breast, with the hard work of my masterfully-designed anatomy. I didn’t know I was capable of any of that before you. Would I have even believed it? With your siblings, I had another gift, just as treasured, of already knowing I could.
I learned from you.
I like to lightheartedly compare your first year (or two) as a rough draft, heavily marked with the dreaded red pen and many “try again!”s from the teacher. Except there was no teacher, just your dad and I, blissfully blundering into parenthood without a clue. We made so many mistakes, but we tried so hard to do right by you. Sometimes too hard. We are kinder to ourselves now, and the personalities of your younger siblings reflect that more relaxed tone, often to your frustration. Our attempt at Perfect Parents will forever be etched into your need to be a master of all things. I love that about you, yet I also know it will bring you pain at times. Thankfully, now you get to take that rough draft and write the next copies yourself.
I need you.
It might not be right (I’m still making mistakes over here) but you’re my sidekick, the robin to my batman, and I depend on you probably more than I should. You have such a thirst to lead and be “big”. I worry that I indulge that a little too much, but I am so grateful for your cheerful help. One more set of hands, even if only half-sized, to wrangle a toddler into some pants or turn the pages of “Go, Dog, Go” one more time. I know I put a lot of pressure on you to “show your little siblings how to behave.” When you do the opposite, I’m made painfully aware that you are still in the single digits yourself, and I should probably give you more grace to behave as such. The truth is that I’m often overwhelmed, and the small help your little self can give often makes all the difference.
The passing of time is unmerciful. While we love all of our kids, I think it’s really important to spend a moment every once in a while to remember what makes each one unique and all of those experiences singular. What are some things that make your oldest child so special to you?
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