Okay, I admit it. When I first suspected I was pregnant with our second child I freaked. I mean, until our first child I had no, and I mean NO, experience with babies. And here she was, not even a year old, and I’m pregnant again? What was I going to do? I wanted time to enjoy my first child, to let her be “the baby” of the family. I wanted to be able to take her to the zoo and watch her explore the bugs outside. And just how did this happen anyway? (Okay, I know HOW it happened, but I was still breastfeeding and my cycle hadn’t even come back, and we certainly hadn’t been doing it like bunnies…)
It took a while to get used to the idea that we would soon be a family of four. And as our daughter got more adventurous, climbing the television stand, her crib, and whatever else she could find, I began to worry not about her not being able to be “the baby” but what would happen when I had another child who would need my attention and she got herself into one of these situations.
When our son was born I learned that it IS possible to nurse one child and remove the toddler from the television stand at the same time. I learned that you can take both children to the zoo or outside to look at bugs, and they’ll both enjoy it. And I learned that everything happens for a reason.
I wouldn’t change how close they are in age for anything now. My daughter loves her brother; she still tries to hold him on her lap, even though at 20 months he is almost the same size she is. And he loves her. He loves to follow her around the house, trying to do whatever she does. They are best friends.
Sure, there are times when they fight over toys. And when one starts crying the other starts crying. But those times are outnumbered by the times my little Peanut runs cars back and forth in the kitchen with her brother. They are outnumbered by the times they both bounce toy animals around, making silly animal sounds and laughing hysterically.
I am thankful every day that they have each other, and that they are so close in age. My own siblings and I were seven years apart each way. We were never this close. We never were interested in playing the same things or watching the same shows. And I am thankful that my own children will have a different experience growing up with each other.