Recently, I had a conversation with my oldest son, who is 4 years old, about the arrival of our third child. My goal is to prepare him for the changes that lie ahead, making the transition smoother for our family. We’ve been discussing the baby’s needs, how the little one will cry and sleep frequently, and how his role as the eldest brother will be vital in helping us.
Just yesterday, he wanted to feel the baby kicking inside my belly. As he placed his small hand on my bump, he earnestly explained to his unborn sibling that there would be much crying and sleeping, and it would be our responsibility to teach him everything. It filled me with joy to see him grasping the essence of our discussions.
Then, my son posed a question that took me by surprise.
“Mommy, did things change for you after I came out of your tummy?”
I paused, contemplating how to articulate such a complex transformation in a way that he could understand. The moment he entered this world, my life was irrevocably altered. In that instant, I experienced an overwhelming sense of love and responsibility unlike anything I had ever felt.
I wanted to share with him how those first few minutes after his delivery, when he wasn’t breathing and the NICU team rushed in, felt like an eternity. I was engulfed in fear, shouting for the doctors’ attention while they worked diligently to revive him. When I finally heard his first cries, they were the sweetest sounds I had ever heard, flooding me with relief and gratitude.
I wished to convey my fears of inadequacy—of not feeding him enough, of someone accidentally dropping him, and of my anxiety each time I checked to ensure he was still breathing while he slept. I felt undeserving of such a precious gift, terrified that something would go wrong and that I wouldn’t be worthy of the immense joy he brought into my life.
I wanted him to know how challenging motherhood was—juggling feedings, sleepless nights, tracking diaper changes, and coping with colic. I wanted to express how isolating it sometimes felt, with my priorities shifting dramatically. One of my friends once told me that he had changed my heart, and I knew they were right. Suddenly, nothing mattered more than him. I could overlook a messy house, leave work early, and decline social invitations just to spend more time with him.
I wanted him to understand that my sleep would never be as sound as it once was. I would tiptoe into his room at night, checking on him, frantically searching Google for answers about everything from cradle cap to preschools. If he and his dad were even a few minutes late returning home, panic would set in. I would miss him while he slept, sometimes sitting quietly in his room just to be near him. I cherished those moments when he would crawl into our bed in the middle of the night.
I wanted to share the frustrations of parenting—how my professional confidence was challenged by a little person who didn’t care about my credentials. I learned that reasoning with a toddler was often futile and that I couldn’t control his moods or behavior no matter how hard I tried.
I also wanted him to know that I had never planned on having more children. We were initially hesitant about having one child, relieved at how well he fit into our lives. Pregnancy wasn’t easy for me, but our love for him made us want to give him a sibling. We couldn’t imagine him growing up without family beyond just his father and me.
I wished to express my worries about loving another child as much as I loved him. Even before his brother was born, I felt guilt. Yet, when his brother finally arrived, I experienced that same profound love, my heart expanding to accommodate both of them.
It breaks my heart with joy as I watch him and his brother play together. I sometimes listen from the doorway, eavesdropping on their conversations, and I melt when he tells his little brother, “family always sticks together.” Even their elaborate plans for mischief amuse me, long after they’ve been disciplined and tucked into bed.
Ultimately, I want to tell him that my friend was right—my heart did indeed change when he came into my life. I will never be the same person I once was. Everything in my life has shifted, with my children now at the center of my universe. Every emotion I experience is felt more deeply and acutely. He carries a piece of my heart with him—he was the first, the catalyst for this incredible journey.
My son looked up at me with curiosity as these thoughts swirled in my mind.
“Mommy, are you hearing my words? Did things change when I came out of your tummy?”
I smiled down at him, squeezing him gently.
“They certainly did, sweetheart. Everything changed.”
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