My daughter has a job, and she’s not even born yet.
Although we had discussed the possibility months prior, when I became pregnant in early 2023, I froze like a deer in headlights staring at those two pink lines.
“What the heck have we done?” I said to my husband from the floor of the bathroom.
We had just gotten the hang of the ever-changing adventure of parenthood with our one toddler. Finally, I felt like we could conquer anything the titles of “mommy” and “daddy” threw our way. So, why would I want to disturb that balance with another little one? I wondered.
A few hours (ok, let’s be honest — it was minutes) later, though, my best friend texted me back and said, “Having my siblings was honestly the greatest thing my parents ever did for me.” That struck a chord in me that I never could have imagined.
From then on, I often thought about my daughter, a compassionate, social, empathetic girl at only a couple of years old. I imagined her as a big sister, thriving in such a position.
I regularly caught myself daydreaming of two young children holding hands as we took walks around the neighborhood, my daughter playing hide-and-seek with someone who could hide better behind the giant oak in our backyard, and the seemingly never-ending “talent shows” where two children repeatedly tumble across the floor, showcasing their “new” routine.
Unfortunately, though, I suffered a miscarriage around the eight-week mark, but I just knew that our journey was not over. (It was a tough time, though. Read more about my miscarriage experience here.)
I became more determined than ever to achieve our goal of becoming a family of four.
Don’t get me wrong: I know plenty of only children who have gone on to live fulfilling, love-filled, and successful lives (Here’s more information about the rise of having a “one-and-done” child). However, I began to reflect on my own experiences with my sibling and my husband’s and realized that, as a mother, I had to do this for my daughter, for myself, and for our family. My husband agreed.
And, me, a child of trauma, I also often thought about my own demise.
Who would be there to support her through it? Who would she spend holidays with after my husband and I are gone? In a world that often seems so cruel, who can she look to for support? Who could she love unconditionally, who would also love her back just the same? Less morbidly, yet more importantly, though, who would she throw a look at from across the table when I say something completely outdated and\or inappropriate in 15+ years?
I’m not naïve.
I know that not all siblings are best friends or even continue to communicate with one another once they’re adults. I can’t force my daughters to be close.
But a mom can dream, can’t she?
So, all in all, I guess I’ve just realized that while she isn’t even born yet, the baby inside my belly already has a pretty big role to fill.
I know, I know, that’s a lot of pressure for someone who has yet to take her first steps, laugh, or—ya know—even breathe fresh air. However, I also know I’ll love her all the same as I already love my older daughter. I’ll protect her, care for her, and keep her safe, no matter what the circumstance is.
I just hope she and her big sister do the same for each other someday, too.
