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I’m Still Grieving the End of Our Only-Child Era
When my first son turned four, he developed an intense fascination with marble mazes. He had several varieties: a fancy wooden one, a flimsy plastic version, a hand-me-down from a friend, and a few more. He could spend hours glued to YouTube, captivated by videos of people constructing mazes with all sorts of paths and angles. His eyes would dart around, entranced, as he watched marbles navigate the twists and turns. It was an obsession.
Now, he’s 8 ½, and those endless days of play, just the two of us, feel like a distant memory. The time we spent together, playing marbles and watching videos, has been replaced with his busy schedule of school, friends, homework, and swim lessons. Even though I’ve tried to keep his calendar open, his free time is a shadow of what it used to be.
More importantly, he now has a little brother to share my attention with. My husband and I do our best to carve out special moments for him, but it’s just not the same.
Recently, while tidying up his room, I was struck by the stillness around me. It was then I noticed his collection of empty paper towel and toilet paper rolls neatly lined up on his windowsill. He’d been asking us to save them for a grand marble maze project. I had saved them without a second thought, but seeing them there, patiently waiting, made me tear up.
I felt a wave of nostalgia for those carefree days of early childhood, wondering how the years slipped away so quickly. I wished for those times to return. But reality hit me hard: how would we find the time to help him build this intricate maze? It would take hours, extra materials, and probably some tears, especially with our perfectionist son. And my 2-year-old would need to be kept at bay during the process, which felt like an impossible task with our hectic lives.
We waited five years to have a second child, always planning to have two. My husband and I are both eldest siblings, and we recall fondly our own childhoods without much sibling rivalry. Financial concerns played a big role in our decision-making too. The Great Recession hit, leading my husband to take a pay cut and eventually lose his job. It never felt like the right time to expand our family.
But beyond the practicalities, there was a certain magic in our little trio. My husband and I are both intense, creative first-borns, just like our first son. We poured our hearts into him, teaching him to read, multiply, and explore history. We created projects together that I will cherish forever.
The decision to have a second child was not easy. I knew we could not wait too much longer, but I had no desire for a baby at the time; it was more about following a plan than a genuine urge. Our first son took 18 months to conceive, so when we tried for a second, we expected a similar timeline. Instead, our second son arrived on the first try, which left me feeling shocked and anxious throughout most of the pregnancy.
Of course, the moment my second child was born, I fell in love instantly. All my fears about the change melted away. Yet, I quickly realized things would never be the same with my first son. I still share a strong bond with him; I make it a point to spend one-on-one time with him whenever possible. Each night, I cuddle with him before bed, listening to his daily highlights and whatever video game he’s currently into (I do my best to keep up!).
My two boys have the sibling bond I hoped for, though they do squabble often enough (the toilet paper rolls are now on a high shelf to prevent co-opting). Yet, they also play together wonderfully—rolling around and chasing each other in the yard. I love watching my older son take on a protective role, teaching his little brother new things.
Still, I can’t help but mourn the long days we spent together, where my focus was solely on him. It feels like a beautiful love story that ended too soon, leaving me with a small scar from that sadness.
I don’t regret having a second child. Most of the time, we find a good balance, giving both boys the attention they need. I know I would have regretted not expanding our family. I’ve even found myself feeling a bit of baby fever lately, more than I did when my first son was the age of my second.
Summer is just around the corner, and I’m looking forward to tackling the kind of projects we used to do. By then, my older son will have enough tubes saved to create his marble maze. I can already picture him showing his little brother how to launch the marble and watch together as it zigzags through the maze, sharing that magic moment once again.
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In summary, while I cherish my boys and the bond they share, I sometimes find myself longing for those quiet moments with my first. However, I know that those memories will always be a part of our story as a family.