Dear Little One,
Today, as you drifted off to sleep in my arms, I found myself holding you a bit tighter, savoring your sweet, almost-baby scent, and resting my cheek against your soft, curly hair. In that moment, I felt overwhelmed with love and a touch of sadness—not because you’re anything less than perfect, but because I realize I don’t take enough moments like that with you.
I need to share something that’s been weighing on my heart: I had more time to cherish those moments with your older brother, Ethan. When he was three, it was just the two of us, and life moved at a slower pace. Everything focused on him, allowing me to shower him with the undivided attention that I wish I could give you now.
You know how much I love you, and I’m certain you’ll forgive me before I even finish this letter, but I must say it: I’m sorry.
I’m sorry our lives are so hectic, that we have to wake up early and rush through mornings before you’re ready to cuddle. I regret that breakfast sometimes feels like a race, and I have to get you dressed while you’re lost in your superhero adventures.
I’m sorry for all the times you hear me raising my voice, pleading with your brother to get his lunch packed for the umpteenth time. I’m sorry for the noise and chaos that comes with “big kid” responsibilities. I wish you didn’t have to rush off to school every day or witness the endless chores I juggle, from work emails to grocery lists.
I’m sorry that all your clothes are hand-me-downs from Ethan, and that many of your toys and books were once his too. I even feel bad that sometimes I have to bribe you with candy just to get you to come along with me to pick him up (though I suspect you don’t mind the candy too much!).
I regret that your baby book is nearly empty and that I often say, “just a minute,” when you want to play. I’m sorry you’ve had to help with third-grade math homework, and I wish you didn’t have to share me with your brother all the time. But please know that my heart has space for both you and Ethan.
Our family is full of love and life, and I want you to feel that every day. I cherish all the sweet things you say, and each moment we spend together, whether we’re painting, reading, or watching the caterpillars in the yard, I’m completely present with you.
Even when it seems like everyone else is busy with grown-up things, I see you. I appreciate the joy and wonder you bring into our lives. I hope I show you enough how incredible you are and how much laughter you fill our home with.
I hope you remember all the times you fell asleep in my arms, and how fiercely I hold on to your babyhood because I know it won’t last forever. I want you to grow up, but regardless of how fast time flies, you will always be my baby.
With all my love,
Mommy
P.S. If you’re interested in more about family and parenting, check out this post on our other blog, Intracervical Insemination. For those considering options for starting a family, Cryobaby offers excellent resources. And for additional information on fertility, Medical News Today is a great place to explore.
Summary: This heartfelt letter expresses a mother’s love and apologies to her youngest child for the busyness of life and the challenges that come with parenting two children. She reflects on the unique bond with her youngest and reassures them of her unwavering affection despite the chaos.