Foreign Terrain: When you’re an only child raising siblings.

 

Almost immediately after my first child entered the world, people were asking, “are you going to have another?”  Which I know, for some bizarre reason, is a common question people ask before you’re even settled in with baby #1.  This question felt more personal for me though, because I’m an only child.  GASP!    

I know you must be thinking, ‘weren’t you so lonely?’  Growing up, I never, not even once, asked for a sibling.  My parents were, and still are, incredible people who are selflessly devoted to my happiness.  I never missed out on having someone to play with because they played with me.  My mom and I did all the girly things: dolls, manicures, and dress up while my dad and I would roller blade around the local park (It was the 90’s, ok? Roller blading was cool!).  We had family game nights and beach days.  If we went on a family trip, I got to bring a friend along.  I sincerely felt bad for my friends with siblings because I thought my life as an only child was the absolute BEST!  Maybe it’s just who I am or maybe it stems from being an ‘only’, but I love being by myself, it recharges me; and it turns out that that specific quality has made me an exceptional fireman’s wife because I can easily cope when my husband is at the fire station for twenty-four hours straight!  (I get to binge watch all of my favorite shows without any side commentary, could you ask for a better Friday night?)

I personally never even knew why I didn’t have siblings.  It never seemed appropriate to ask my mom.  What if she tried again and couldn’t get pregnant?  Maybe the timing wasn’t right?  Maybe I was too much for them?  (I’d put my money on the latter.)  When my son turned two we entertained the possibility of another, but before I could even wrap my brain around the idea, I was pregnant again.  The month leading up to my daughter’s arrival was extremely emotional for me.  I practically carved out every free moment I had and dedicated it to outings with my son.  My mind was consumed with thoughts on how they would get along, and more often than not, I thought of my first born and his ‘only’ status being revoked.  Unlike most who think they’re “giving” their first child a lifelong friend, I was thinking about all the things he was going to have to give up, mainly my attention.

Then my daughter was born and we were elated!  I never knew I had that much more love to give.  Five days later we were at her first newborn check up and I suddenly turned into an emotional, hormonal, blubbering disaster (cut to my husband staring at me like I had five heads, he’d never seen so many tears apparently).  Our doctor understood the guilt I was feeling, mixed with the uncertain terrain of raising siblings.  In the beginning nothing changed much.  My son craved a little more attention.  If people were talking about the baby he’d jet straight across the room to be by her, not to miss a chance in the spotlight.  As she got older and began playing I started to occasionally get comments like; do you think he’s too close to her, do you think he’s too loud by her, are you worried he’s going to hurt her?  The questions rattled me because I didn’t know the answer.  Was he too close?  Should I separate them when they play?  Are they together too much or not enough?  Is it selfish to want alone time with the baby?  Should someone have sent me a manual once my second child was born???  

If you’re like me, and your manual never arrived, here’s what was shared with me, in between sobs, at that sentimental doctor’s appointment:

1) Carve out 2, 15 minutes spots in your day to spend with each child alone.  Maybe when one is napping, in school, or simply entertaining themselves (is that considered a miracle?).  During that 15 minute period, focus on whatever activity your child wants to do.  Try not to correct them or turn it into a teachable moment, just enjoy each other’s company.

2)  If one child wants to play alone, let them.  They don’t always have to do everything together.  They are still unique individuals with different likes and dislikes.

3)  Set expectations for the behavior, not the relationship.  You can teach and encourage respect, support, and love, then let the friendship flourish from there.

It’s been an ongoing learning process for me to say the least.  There are times when my son accidentally knocks into his sister as she’s wobbling by the couch trying to push herself up to standing.  There’s times when I wish he’d be more careful zooming airplanes by her face or that she could simply live in a bubble until her balance was all situated.  BUT, there are also the sweetest moments I’ve ever witnessed.  Her first laugh when he shouted “peek a boo,” his whispering voice as he softly sings to her “you are my sunshine,” her bright smile as she gazes up to see him handing her a toy, his excitement in reading to her every night even though she tries to take a bite out of every page.  It’s a relationship completely foreign to me, but the beautiful thing is that I get to experience something brand new, through the eyes of my two biggest loves.