There’s a saying in my family:
“First is first.”
I am the eldest daughter of three children, and my late father was fond of pulling me aside and telling me that, no matter what, I had a secure place in his heart because first was first.
He and I were very close, a bond forged early in my life. My father was an undergraduate when I was born, and my mother worked when he wasn’t in class. Barely able to afford their inner-city apartment, childcare was out of the question.
My father stayed home with me, no doubt cracking the books when I was napping or entertaining myself in my death trap of a metal walker.
But he was with me in a way that most dads, especially then, were not. He fed me lunch – he told me my favorites were hot dogs and chocolate pudding – and made up silly songs about me. In my baby book, in his handwriting, is a tidbit about my early life:
“Amy gives the best big hugs.”
Even when I was at my lowest, even when I knew I’d disappointed him, I knew that I was first.
When my niece was born, she was the only grandchild in our family and it would be years before another came along. My father was smitten with her, and the feeling was mutual. Only two when my father died, Lizzy still has strong memories of her grandfather.
My dad would spoil her rotten, and then laugh and tell her – and us – that, well, first is first.
***
We started talking about having children just before my father’s cancer was deemed terminal. I remember cleaning the kitchen with my husband, in our fancy downtown loft suited to trendy newlyweds. I dusted the top of the fridge while Mr. C cleaned the sink.
We talked and talked and talked, and if I hadn’t gotten pregnant while taking birth control pills, we would still be talking about it. Having children is not an intellectual endeavor – you just have to close your eyes and jump off the cliff.
For two cautious people, that is a steep dive.
I lost track of my cycle that winter, thanks to the emotional upheaval of my dad’s failed, last-ditch surgery and the nuclear fallout of his diagnosis.
Then I had the stomach flu – for two weeks.
Holding the plastic stick in my hand, two faint lines indicating that the test was positive, I stared at my husband in disbelief.
“We’re a family now,” I told him. “A family.”
***
Saturday mornings are my favorite times. The Poo wakes up early and pads to our room on bare feet, her beautiful little face peeking around the door.
“Mommy?” she asks.
We hold out our arms and she runs to us, nightie swirling around her perfect calves. She climbs up into the bed, tumbling into the space between us.
We snuggle her, smothering her in kisses. We tickle her belly and tell silly jokes. We tell her we love her, and we tell her how lonely we were before she came into our lives.
These days, she touches the swell of my womb and asks us to tell her about the time she was inside me.
“We loved you even then,” Mr. C says, stroking her unruly curls away from her eyes. “You made us a family, Poo.”
***
Soon three will become four.
In just a few weeks we will welcome our son into the fold. His father and I are anxious to see him, to meet him in person. Just recently I’ve overcome some of my anxiety about my ability to handle two children, and instead I imagine myself, the boy tucked into a sling on my hip and the girl holding my hand, walking by my side.
I imagine sweet newborn scents and wee onsies, fresh from the dryer. I daydream about patting a small bottom with one hand and holding a storybook in the other.
I know the first weeks will be hard, harder than I can fathom. I will be torn asunder, wracked with guilt and overwhelmed by sleep deprivation.
But four is a nice even number, a number that can carry us into the future.
***
These last three years with just our darling Poo, that sweet, salty force-of-nature that is our daughter, will forever be held sacred in my heart. These last weeks with her, knowing that her days as an only child and the center of our universe are waning, are bittersweet.
Because first is first.
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Amy that was beautiful and bittersweet. I remember feeling that way when my first was born almost 21 years ago. Sadly he left this world when he was two…but, like you have so beautifully captured in this post, first is first. Joshua might no longer be here with me physically, but that place will always remain forever his.
Beautiful and bittersweet is right. That photo is just so perfect – please tell me you will frame it…
She could not look more like you – it isn’t possible!
Darling picture and a great post!
(And you’ll soon enough know for sure – more is even better.)
I’m a goner for the way newborns smell. I just love it. I wish they would bottle it up and make it a candle scent or something. It’s so precious.
(sniff, sniff – such a sweet post) I have to tell my princess that first is it. She’s 12 and I just don’t see a second in my future. I would think that it would be odd that the next few weeks will be her last ones as first. Very interesting perspective!
i love this … so very beautiful ! i too am embarking on the addition of number too, in 111 days or so! nik is about 3.5 and we have a boy on the way. he is excited for the unknown “new brother”…
i am both scared yet so ready and excited… i love this statement: “Having children is not an intellectual endeavor – you just have to close your eyes and jump off the cliff.”
Thanks for this. It brought back some very beautiful memories.
This is a beautiful post. The first few weeks will be hard, but you will handle it. You will take all that you’ve learned with the Poo and put it use again. You will not believe how your heart grows to make room for the new baby.
I love that photo of you all – such a perfect moment in time.
I remember thinking like that when I was about to have #2. I didn’t realize how much my first would love her little brother, and what great friends they’d be. I really don’t know what I did when I only had one!
Enjoy this time…you’ll love the time after too.
Luscious post, Amy. Enjoy the journey into four.
I found myself thinking about our three while reading your post – and about the different experience an only child has versus one with siblings.
While we are able to give a certain amount of input, a gang of little people become a firehose of fun, games, arguments, lessons, hurt, laughter and every other imaginable aspect of human relationships you can imagine.
We hold on by our fingertips.
God, your dad was a good man.
What shocked me was when the second came along, I went from feeling just as you described to feeling so protective of the baby and frustrated with the older child.
What a cute picture.
And yes, first is first, but second is less stressful.
Oh my…this was so sweet
You’re dad sounds like he was a wonderful father.
“First is first” – it’s true.
It IS beautiful and bittersweet, all at the same time. It will be hard, but it will be so worth it. I wish you all the best with the upcoming birth and merging into a family of four.
“Having children is not an intellectual endeavor – you just have to close your eyes and jump off the cliff.
For two cautious people, that is a steep dive.”
I don’t think any another sentences I’ve read in a blog have ever struck such a chord with me.
Having children is a steep dive. I felt this way just before each birth of the boys. I always worried and pondered how my daughter was going to handle having another little brother chasing after her and wanting her attention. And each time she welcomed them with open arms. She handled it way better than I did. This post is sweet and it took me down memory lane with my children as well. I can barely recall life with just one now that I have 4. It’s amazing!
This post brought tears to my eyes. Very sweet; you’ll adapt to being a family of four with no effort at all.
Just lovely.
this made me sniff…lovely, Amy. lovely post, lovely family…and your dad there in the wings, still speaking to you.
We’re planning to try for our second starting in just a month, so it’s amazing to read of your journey from three to four like this as we prepare to (hopefully) begin that transition ourselves.
Great post.
I’ve experienced first twice, in a way – two kids by two different guys. Two wholly different life situations, one at 23 and the other at 30. Two different genders.
Each of them is so lucky to have been first!
I am thinking that if there had been blogging in 1976, my mother would have written this about our family while expecting my baby brother while she tried to keep me busy.
And you know, the first of your first is always special too, and your dad knew this, he knew you were expecting and would be making your own little family just as he does now.
You took my breath away with your words, yet again.
I think of this often when I’m afforded time alone with my son, my firstborn – how it used to be just us before his little sister came along.
The two of them together are amazing and time alone with each is just as stellar. Evan and I killed time yesterday while Flynn was at school by going for coffee (well, he had an Orangina) and he ate about a half loaf of bread from the baker/coffee place. He indulged me by going through the shoe store. He held my hand as we crossed the street – something he doesn’t do much anymore. And I recalled how we had a bit over 2 years where it was just us during the day.
I was sad and happy at the same time.
first is first. but…there really is something special about those seconds too. and it really takes the entrance of the second to realize it.
my first is special…but my second keeps my smile on my face. it’s pretty neat how quickly your world expands and it’s miraculous how quickly your heart can accommodate for it.
You have such a beautiful family…not just the three of you, but all together.
When I was pregnant with Larkin I was scared because – how could I love another as much as I love the first? Hard to explain, but you just do. You love your babies with the same throw yourself in front of a bullet for them fierceness
What a beautiful story. Just perfect.
I love it when you write about your father. I was an only child, a big daddy’s girl. I lost my father when I was 19, in the midst of a extremely busy social calendar and no clue that he was as sick as he really was.
My father was a small man. Maybe 5′ 6″ and 125 pounds at most and when my oldest son came into this world the size of a monster machine, I was flaberghasted. I mean, really, where did I get this huge kid.
My second born came 5 weeks early and still weighed 6 lbs and 6 ounces. But, he is very small in stature. At the ripe age of 3 3/4, he can wear most of his 24 month pants. His hair is lighter than my fathers…more the color that my father always wanted his to be but could never get that color out of a bottle.
Anyway, I get all warm and fuzzy inside when you write about your dad. I’m in bed with strept and a kidney stone but I had to make myself sit up long enough to let you know that you are special and your children will know that they are special.
I know you don’t live near a lot of family where you are going to get lots of help, as I had tons of help, but either way, I can’t really say that 2 was any harder than one. Mine were 22 months apart and honestly, if you are gonna bathe one kid, might as well bathe two, feed one, might as well feed 2.
I just wish, like you, that my dad could see my precious darlings.
Oh, Mrs. Chicken, this is sweet. I’m getting a little teary: just weaned my 2nd and now you’re wanting me to remember patting his little newborn bottom, and my big kid daughter’s fascination with nursing The Baby, and how in love I was with Cal even as I was sad and guilty about not knowing what Frannie’s favorite bedtime story was anymore. On the other hand, it gave my husband the chance to whisper to her that, after all, first is always first.
This post is just beautiful. My kids are 6 years apart. So it wasn’t so bad!! Big sis was more than willing to help with her little bro!
Ah, yes. Fathers and their firsts. It’s something to behold.
It’s kind of funny how that happens sometimes – one life comes into your family just as another is going out.
Right when my grandmother died, my sister went into labor with her first son. Happened on the same day. Coincidentally the same day I started Kindergarten – must have been a memorable day for my mother.
In February, my father-in-law passed away and we found out that our oldest son and daughter-in-law had gotten pregnant with #4 at about the same time. You wonder how much of the spirit of the deceased person is poured into the new child.
My oldest son is SO much like my father. Sometimes, my Mom and I would watch him and then look at each other and just laugh….
What a beautiful story. You will do wonderfully with your new addition. I just added on my fourth daughter 5 months ago. It is hard raising four but I wouldn’t trade any of it for the world.
http://www.ontheverge6.blogspot.com
damn, girl…you can WRITE!
If there is anyone who could convince me to have a baby (despite the horror stories), that would be you.
And what a beautiful family you are.
What a beautiful post. You are amazing, don’t let yourself forget it.