Exploring Womanhood > Journals > Growing Together: A Journal From Mother to Daughter > Entries

Entry #14 ~ November 24, 2002
~ Window of opportunity

Dear Charon,

We are all very excited for the winter arrival of Auntie Katy and Uncle Dave's baby. You are particularly interested in this new addition to our extended family. The last time Katy was here, you cuddled with her and touched her big belly and kissed it, asking her about the baby inside. She is seven months pregnant now, and eager to meet her little one.

You haven't always been excited about babies. I remember when my grandma, Great-Grandma Caryl, got you a baby doll for your first birthday. She had been the expert gift-giver, always picking out something that you loved, and that was perfect for the developmental stage you were in. You gave the doll a hug and kiss for a photo we took, and then promptly forgot about it altogether. It's been the one toy you've never ever minded sharing with the kids in our playgroup.

When you were about two, I found a dolly at a used toys sale that I thought would be perfect for you to bathe and shampoo. You were such a big fan of water and soap, I thought you'd love this activity. When I suggested it, you looked at me quizzically. I showed you what I meant, lathering up my hands and rubbing the bubbles all over the doll. You watched, and then asked to play with the plastic bear that came with her instead.

Babies held little interest for you, too. Actually, you saw babies as threatening little creatures just waiting to steal your favorite place to sit, which was my lap. Whenever I tried to hold the baby of a friend or relative, you'd start to holler. "You're my mom!" I imagined you were trying to say. "Get that baby out of your arms right now!"

I remember visiting a friend with a new baby when you were about two-and-a-half. You hadn't seen a baby close-up for a couple of months, so I thought maybe you'd be over your jealous streak. Besides, a lot of people I knew were spacing their babies a little over two years apart, feeling like their first was ready for a sibling. Many praised how good their older one was with the baby. I started to worry that I was being selfish, not giving you a sibling right away. Maybe we were missing a window of opportunity. Maybe two-and-a-half was the perfect age to get a new sibling..

When we arrived, you spotted the baby right away and then refused to get off my lap. My friend and I tried to entice you with all of the fun toys she had, which were new to you. You found something you liked, but you were determined to stay on top of me and have me play with you. Each time I'd ask if you were ready to get down, you'd start to get upset and yell or cry. I'd reassure you that I wouldn't put you down until you were ready. Well, you were never ready. You claimed your territory, and eyed the baby with suspicion and mistrust.

Now you are three, and it seems your view of babies has suddenly changed. I'm sure it wasn't really sudden, though. Maybe that day when I let you stay on my lap, forfeiting the chance to hold my friend's baby, helped you to trust that I wouldn't let you lose your place with me.

One of the first changes I noticed is when you started to talk with me about Katy's baby. I remember one of the first conversations we had. I was telling you how Katy's baby would be your cousin, and how we would go to visit and how the baby would really like you. I told you that the baby would learn lots of new things from you, and that Katy and the baby would need us to help them.

Then you surprised me. "What should we do when Katy's baby cries?" I asked. "Give the baby a bottle!" you replied immediately, proud you knew the answer. "Oh, honey," I said, "Did you know that Katy will nurse her baby, just like I nursed you?" "Oh," you said, thinking. "Katy is the baby's mama, just like I'm you're mama. If Katy is gone and we are taking care of the baby, then maybe we'll give the baby a bottle." "Okay," you said. You'd seen other mothers nurse before, lots of times. But this was the first time you had seen, up close, how women become mothers. It was neat to be able to teach you about it, to see your little mind working it all out.

We talked about other things we could do when the baby cried. We could get a toy for the baby, or give the baby a hug, or make funny faces for the baby to look at. Soon, you were playing a new "pretend" game. One day, I came home to find you and Daddy playing "family" with your little Tinky Winky doll. You were pushing Tinky, the baby, in your little walker, which had become a stroller. You were all going to the park together. Later, the baby took a nap in my upside-down footstool. When the baby started crying, we asked you what he needed. "Oh!" you said. You acted concerned, and went to gently pick Tinky up. "He need to nurse," you explained, and pulled up your shirt to nurse him yourself. Needless to say, Tinky stopped crying.

I used to worry about how it would work for us to have another child. How would you handle it? How would I? But now, I see you growing up. You are taking care of yourself more and more as time goes on. You are able to tell me what you need, when you are sad or mad, and why, and how I can help you. And, amazingly, you like babies now. A baby joined our playgroup this last month, and you have been curious about him, gentle with him, and you want to help out when you can. You like to look at him, and watch his mama take care of him.

I think having a sibling would be wonderful for you. Sometimes, I wish we could have one right now, and I worry that this window of opportunity will disappear again before it can happen. But then I think about how fun it will be if I have the good fortune to go through another pregnancy, and to share those nine months with you. It will be a time of preparation, of dreams, of hope, of growth. Being a big sister is such a joyful thing. My little sister, your Aunt Katy, taught me that. I hope to give you the chance to be a big sister someday, too, Charon.

Love,
Mom