They say that parents of two don’t love the first kid any less.
I’ve never parented one, let alone two, but I’ve never seen the first receive less love because a sibling came along. The love looked different, to be sure. But less love? Nope. Or was there less love for the second because of birth order?
Attention- that’s another matter altogether. There are still 24 hours in a day, and although it seems parents sleep less with two (again, don’t ask me!), the awake hours must be split.
I feel like the parent of two kids, and I’m pretty sure I’m adjusting to the new baby right now. Ha!
My heart hurts tonight, but it’s not the pain of straight-up sadness. It’s more a bittersweetness settling in, I suppose. It’s a fresh realization of missing some things at the same time I am so enjoying the deepening joy in other things.
It’s the first day of school pictures and posts (thank you, Facebook) and a student leaning in to whisper with a smile, “I have a good teacher!” on the same day. It’s missing a special little one’s birthday and baking/chatting/staying with some special big ones in the same week. It’s wishing for more FaceTime (thank you, time difference!) and delighting in dinner with roommates-turned-friends.
I could go on and on. For every piece of life I miss, there’s a new piece to love. But the stretching of my heart can be a little painful at times.