Though, Oliver is getting excited. Very excited. We set baby brother's crib up in their shared room and I catch my sweet boy gripping the bars of his once comfy space of solace, peering quietly in at the stuffed lovies we've accumulated for the new baby, surely picturing the smallness of his little brother laying amongst them. He speaks sweetly and kisses my belly and tells me about all of the things he's going to do with and teach the small baby resting inside. Every doctor visit begins with "Is he coming out today?!" and ends with an impatient sigh as we walk out the doors. But...he'll be here before we know it.
We've spent our time together snuggled up and enjoying the last moments of calm before our world erupts. When my boy falls asleep in my arms on quiet afternoons, it takes everything inside of me to keep it together when I begin to realize that these moments...these afternoons...are fleeting. Soon, the boy will have to share his mum. He may not realize what this means, but he will. It won't be just he and I like it has been for so many years of afternoon naps wrapped up in each other with no cares to rip us from the warmth.
I guess what I'm trying to say is...the wait for little brother is bittersweet. We're not rushing it, we're not stressing it. We're just...moving forward as usual. I will continue to kiss my now only child's closed eyelids as I watch him breathe deeply, squished at my side. I will make time for these moments after little brother crash lands into our life. I have to. Not just for Oliver, but for my own stretching, confused heart.
He will always be my baby. Just...the first one. That's all.
