Dear Little One,
I find myself missing you more than I can express. I miss those carefree days when it was just the two of us. Remember the endless hours of play? We’d race cars and trucks, splash colors on paper, and dance around the living room, shaking our little shakers to the beat of our favorite tunes. Those rocking chair moments filled with bedtime stories and laughter seem like a distant memory.
I miss our car rides to the store, just you in the backseat, filling the air with your sweet songs or enthusiastic little conversations. I miss the freedom you had to be as loud as you wanted. Now, it seems I’m always whispering, “Hush! Your brother is trying to rest!” I long for those carefree stomps and joyous shouts of “Mommy!” when I pop around the corner. These days, I often find myself hurrying to quiet you down, attending to your little brother’s needs instead.
Our quiet moments together have become so rare. You’ve grown to express yourself loudly, but it’s often at times when I’m preoccupied. I know you’re reaching out for my attention in the only way you know how. When I find one of your toys on my dresser at night, it hits me hard. I realize how much I truly miss you. Even though I’m grateful when you finally drift off to sleep, there’s a lingering ache of “I didn’t get enough of you today.”
Now that you’re not my only little one, I feel the pull of your sibling’s needs, which sometimes leaves me stretched too thin. I adore both of you with all my heart. Each of you brings a different kind of joy to my life. I love spending time with your brother, cherishing his adorable babbles and the way he gazes at me with those innocent eyes, saying “I love you, Mama” without words.
Yet, I can’t shake the nostalgia for the time that was just you and me. I miss being your go-to comfort when you’re sad or unwell. I want to scoop you up in my arms and sway with you like we used to, feeling your breath against my cheek. Most days, I feel like I’m barely managing to give enough to either of you. I long to shower you with the same full attention I once did.
Maybe all mothers with more than one child experience this yearning for balance, hoping for a future where they can devote more time to each child. Until that day comes, I must embrace every moment and recognize the unique experiences that we share as a family. I will strive to find whatever bits of love I can share between you both.
I hold on to the hope that as you both grow into your independence, I will feel fulfilled in giving you both the love, time, and attention you deserve. Until then, I miss you dearly. I miss the way we were. I miss us.