I know it sounds cliché, but knowing Isla’s days as an only child are numbered is a little bittersweet. I can’t wait for her to have a sibling and I hope they develop a bond that lasts an eternity. Having a brother or sister is like having a built-in best friend after all. One you can fight with about nothing and everything yet go to bed knowing it’ll all blow over by morning. Someone you can lean on during your darkest hours and celebrate with when life is at its best. Someone who totally understands and agrees that mom and dad are incredibly annoying and to blame for all your faults and therapy bills, but who ensures you won’t be stuck caring for them by yourself when they’re old and crazy and have lost all filters. A person who is definitely judging you when you confide in them your dirtiest secrets, but who will tell it like it is and not hold it against you because she knows who you truly are on the inside. I love my sisters. They drive me crazy and man we could’ve used a boy in the house, but I love them unconditionally.
Then there’s me as a mom selfishly loving all of this time I get with Isla all to myself. She is my life right now. My days revolve around her every need (in both good ways and ones that require much wine if only I could have just a little!). We share a bond that I’m guessing only mothers and their firstborn can share. That’s not to say I won’t love her brother just as much. While it seems impossible that I could love anyone as much as I love Isla, I know it is. I know I’m going to be crushed all over again the day he arrives and that seeing them together will be life’s greatest joy to date. I’m certain on that day I won’t be able to imagine life without the two of them together. But it’s days like this one when I took Isla to the park for a little mama-daughter one-on-one that I will miss. When she knows she has my undivided attention and says/does the sweetest little things because she knows I’m watching. Like how she kept walking over to smell the flowers, then would give me a huge grin and run as fast as she could into my arms yelling “I got you!” before falling into a fit of giggles. Or when she’d look up at me, rub my arm and say, “Hi Mama,” and then go back to the very important business of covering her legs in stickers (as if nothing happened and I’m not holding back tears because I’m still in awe that this little sometimes-monster is so utterly, heartbreakingly sweet).
I can’t wait to welcome her brother into our family, but I hope I never forgot what it was like to be just her mama.