A Letter To My Second Child

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Dear Little One,

I see you. I catch a glimpse of you rolling over from the corner of my eye while I’m busy picking up scattered fruit and tending to your older sibling. In those moments, I think, “Well done! I’m so proud of you!” But do I ever say these words aloud?

Today, I placed you on your activity mat for the second time. My original plan was to lie beside you, discussing the shapes and colors that surround us. However, silence fills the room, and I instinctively check on your brother, who has managed to create a delightful mess with his snacks. As I gather the pieces, I hear your soft coos in the background, but my attention is diverted as I teach your big brother the importance of tidiness.

When your sweet sounds turn to cries, I realize you’ve been waiting for my comfort while I juggle your brother’s needs. I pick you up, pop a pacifier in your mouth, and start naming the animals he’s playing with—my mind racing with thoughts of the next task. I glance at the clock and see it’s almost time for your first nap. I quickly change your diaper, lay you down in your crib, and scoop up your brother as I leave the room. Did I even whisper “sweet dreams” or “I love you”? My thoughts are interrupted when I stumble over a toy left on the floor, and I am propelled into my next task on a seemingly endless list.

During our day, when I nurse you, I often find myself answering emails or telling your brother to stop climbing the stairs or banging on the walls. Our nursing sessions lack the quiet intimacy I once enjoyed; now they are simply functional.

As I prepare dinner, my mind races, wondering when your father will arrive. I feel exhausted, and though I know he shares the same fatigue, I look forward to a moment of reprieve. You sit in your exersaucer, playing quietly. When I check on you, I show you how to press the buttons, but I quickly return to instructing your brother on proper table manners.

I realize that when your brother was your age, I would sing and dance around the kitchen while cooking. Now, my attention is scattered, and I begin to feel like I am not fulfilling my role as a mother. This thought leads me to a quiet prayer, asking God that you will be just as intelligent and capable as your older sibling, despite the fact that I struggle to give you the same one-on-one time.

Then, your father arrives, and I feel a wave of relief. He greets our family and makes his way over to you. I watch as you light up with joy, and my heart swells with gratitude for his love and dedication. Yet, a twinge of sadness creeps in as I wonder if I’ve made you smile today. I recall the laughter I shared with your brother, but I can’t help but question if I’ve made you laugh.

The evening rushes by as we tidy up toys, wash dishes, and prepare for bath time. I lay you on the floor while I scramble to fill a sippy cup, grab a pacifier, and select pajamas. You are dressed and ready for bed, and I take a moment to turn on your fan before heading to your brother’s room for bedtime stories.

That night, during our last feeding, I hold you close as we say our prayers. Your father kisses you gently, and I walk down the hall with you in my arms, kissing your cheek and whispering “I love you” before laying you down for the night. As I quietly exit your room, I pause and smile, feeling accomplished for navigating another day of parenting. I sit beside your father, sharing the day’s amusing moments before indulging in a well-deserved treat.

As I prepare for sleep, you and your brother are at the forefront of my mind. I pray for grace and patience to be the best mother possible for both of you. Somewhere in the midst of my prayers, I drift off, concerned if I’m giving you the love you deserve.

So here it is: I am incredibly proud of you. Today, you rolled over, reached for your toy, and fell asleep peacefully. You are one of the happiest babies I know. I appreciate your ability to adapt, and your smile is a source of joy for me. I often find solace in the glider in your room, rocking gently while listening to your soft breathing.

It’s hard to believe life existed before you. You have completed our family in ways I never anticipated. From this day forward, I promise to devote more time to you. Some days it will be reading an extra book or singing a silly song, while other days it may just be rocking you a little longer. Regardless, I will take the extra moments to show you my love. You are always on my mind.

With love,

Your Mom

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In summary, this heartfelt letter reflects a mother’s struggles and triumphs in balancing her love for her second child amidst the chaos of parenting. Despite the challenges, her commitment to nurturing and supporting her child shines through.

Keyphrase: Letter to my second child

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