Being the Little Sister

I have two little daughters.  I know, thank you, Captain Obvious.  Anyone who has Facebook stalked me, read one of my blogs or knows me in any capacity, knows that.  All of that aside, my two little girls are on my mind tonight, as they almost always are.  Tonight though, it isn’t about their accomplishments, their goals, their potential, the world around them or how I am attempting to help them grow, learn and become the best humans possible.  Tonight, it’s just about the fact that there are two of them.

No matter what the circumstance in any family with children, there is an oldest child and there is a youngest child.  I happen to fall into the oldest child category.  I am the older of two children and I happen to be the oldest grandchild on one side of my family.  On the other side I am the sixth of seven grandchildren.  There were times when I wasn’t the oldest at family events, but they were not that often.  So, it’s been extremely interesting to watch Eleanor, as she learns what it means to be the little sister.  Because of that, Ramona, Amy March, Lucy Pevensie, my aunt Susan, or my cousin Kayla would have been able to write this better than I have.

So far, Eleanor is my wild one.  She has little to no fear of anything.  She has Spiderman-like climbing abilities and an independent streak that appears to be ever expanding.  Eleanor likes a challenge, especially those involving finding a way out of anything confining, like a seatbelt on a high chair.  By the way, they should make five point harnesses for high chairs and shopping carts. Sometimes a restrained and screaming child is better than one who is either constantly escaping or toppling out headfirst as their parent reaches for the cereal.

Anyway, very little holds Eleanor’s attention for long at this point in her life.  There is one thing though, that Eleanor finds constantly entertaining and that is her big sister, Amelia.  She would follow Amelia anywhere.  Even now, as a toddler, Eleanor makes every attempt to keep up.  She watches it all and takes it in.  Our house is set up so that Amelia can literally run laps around our downstairs when the mood strikes her.  When that happens, you can find Eleanor toddling along behind, being lapped, but contentedly a part of things.  Amelia has recently learned what it means to “copy” someone.  Thanks, daycare friends.  This has been the cause of many a complaint regarding Eleanor lately, who is unabashedly copying her sister.

I know how tough it can be to be the big sister.  To be the first.  To pave the way.  To be the one with whom parents figure things out.  But, now, I can also see how tough it must be to be the little sister.  Eleanor goes as quickly as her legs will carry her, but she can’t catch up.  She reaches for Amelia’s jewelry or clothes or toys or books only to be told that she is too little.

There will come a day when that won’t be the case.  There will come a day when my girls will be able to share clothes or when they will go to each other with problems instead of me.  At least, I hope and pray that they will grow closer together rather than apart.  I’ve seen siblings who have done both.  I don’t have a sister.  I love my brother and would not change my family at all, but I am glad to have been able to give my girls a sister. 

As their parents, we are trying to plant the seeds of a relationship that could flourish between two sisters.  We are trying to teach them the value of each other, to show them how much family matters, to foster a relationship that is strong and healthy.  As we were driving home from supper last night, I caught a glimpse of what could be.  I turned to look at the girls, who were being suspiciously quiet for two awake kids in car seats.  They had reached across the car toward each other and were holding hands as we drove.   Amelia caught me looking and giggled, but didn’t drop Eleanor’s hand.  My hope is just that; that they will always be able to reach each other and that nothing will cause them to let go.

The Envelope Please...

It happened again.  On Thursday, October 6^th, our lives changed, again.

This time, the office was nearly empty.  That, in and of itself, was the first near miracle of the day.  For my last appointment (which included all of five minutes of face time with the doctor), I waited for a solid two hours.  On this day, there was no whisper of impatience hanging in the air, no crowd of other pregnant women anxiously waiting and no reason to incessantly try to make eye contact with the receptionist in case I had been forgotten.

On this day, I was called back before I even had time to settle in or get out a book.  I am quick on the draw with a book, so that’s a win, as far as I’m concerned.  In a scheduling fluke, my doctor’s appointment was scheduled before my ultrasound.  So, in a heightened state of excitement/nervousness/fear/wonder, I laughed as the nurse took my weight and my blood pressure.  Amazingly, my blood pressure was hanging in there, as it usually is, but I did not miss the opportunity to tell the nurse that they really ought to do this after I’ve had my ultrasound. 

Once I got to the exam room, I did wait a little.  Although I barely had time to check out Prince George’s latest preschool exploits in an old edition of “People” magazine when my phone startled me with a text alert.  Adam was on his way.  His emotional state was nearly as contradictory as my own.  He managed to get from work to the doctor’s office before the doctor even entered the room.  As we waited together, we marveled at the sheer volume of diagrams and instruments scattered around the exam room.  All doctor’s offices are awkward and I will forever be thankful that some people (not me) want to be involved in that profession, however, nothing else holds a candle to that type of doctor’s office.

Again, this was a five-minute doctor’s visit.  We covered our bases, asked our questions and basically half-listened while we waited to move on to the next phase of this appointment.  Thankfully, there were no real concerns uncovered and the doctor had nothing but optimism to share.  We did hear the heartbeat and to be honest, it was nice to do that before we were mid-ultrasound.

As the doctor left, the impending news weighed heavily.  Over the last twenty weeks, I have wondered about baby #2’s gender, of course, but is has not been something I have obsessed about by any stretch.  Even in this moment, when the possibility of finding out was imminent, I found myself hardly even thinking about gender in the face of everything else that you can see during this appointment.  At a twenty-week ultrasound, you can see so much growth, so much development. 

We were ushered back to the ultrasound room.  The dim light and art on the walls was a stark contrast to the diagrams and birth control advertisements of the first exam room.  Immediately, I asked the ultrasound technician not to tell us the gender, but instead to write it down in an envelope for us to open later.  I wanted to take the pressure off of the actual appointment and save something to celebrate with Amelia.  Adam would have had her tell us in the exam room, but I held firm.  I wanted to concentrate on everything else about baby first.  One thing at a time.

The appointment progressed and baby twisted and turned, barely stopping to pose for a photo.  We watched as baby was measured and each organ was inspected as much as possible.  The measurements showed that our due date continues to be on target.  Of course it does; that’s how we roll in this world.  Baby appears to be healthy and developing as expected.  We were unbelievably thankful and I felt wave after wave of relief.  We got picture after picture, but weren’t able to get that typical profile shot that everyone wants at this ultrasound. 

We left the appointment with pictures in hand and a plain white envelope.  With that envelope burning a hole in our pocket, we left the office.  We picked up Amelia, had supper and somehow, refrained from opening it in the car.  As soon as we got home after supper, we had only one thought.  We immediately changed Amelia into her first ever “big sister” shirt.  The excitement was palpable and she could barely sit still.  The three of us piled on the couch, as Scout watched warily, and gave Amelia that plain, white envelope.  With two-year-old fingers, she tried to open it, but my fear of ripping its’ contents set it, and Adam and I soon stepped in the help.

Inside the envelope was another ultrasound picture.  This picture, like most of the others, had a few words typed on it to label and point out the focus of the picture.  This one had the words we were looking for; “I am a girl.”  A girl!  Another girl!  We quickly pulled out the “little sister” onesie that I had stashed.  I may have a “little brother” onesie that will be returned to the store soon as well.  I had to be prepared for all outcomes. 

Amelia was extremely cooperative.  She was thrilled with the words “baby sister” and repeatedly explained to us where baby’s head would go in the onesie and where her arms would come out.  We called our family to share the news and after spreading that joy, we shouted the news to the world via social media. 

Amelia will have a sister.  I am so thankful to be giving her a sister.  I am so thankful to be giving baby sister a big sister like Amelia.  White Christmas's "Sisters" has been playing in my head on repeat.  Now, it feels real.  Baby sister feels more like a real person.  Her needs feel so much more imminent.  We haven’t done anything to prepare for this baby yet and the to-do list, the to-buy list, the to-think-about lists all feel enormously long, especially to complete in the next nineteen weeks. 

All of those lists are dwarfed by the questions that I can’t wait to answer.  What will she be like?  What name will we settle on?  Will she be like Amelia?  Will they get along?  The list goes on and on. 

The pressure is also on.  This little girl deserves everything.  She deserves amazing parents, opportunities, and a world that values her for who she is and what she has to offer.  We are so excited for and about our littlest girl!  Here we go again…