You Made Me

When I was a kid, I believed my parents loved my older sister, their first born, more than me. While now I recognize this was a false, childish assumption, what I know to be true, is the first born opens the doorway into a place in our heart that never before existed. 

This makes them special. 

Not more special, but unique in a way that cannot be replicated. Sequential children, while monumental in their own right, knock down walls and expand what we once believed was a restricted space. And we know now is infinite. 

But the first child holds the key.

Last week, my oldest turned 6. And the night before her birthday, I decided to perform my own emotional-torture-ritual by nursing my 1-year-old to sleep, while looking back at pictures from the day my oldest was born, all while watching the latest episode of This is Us that delves into Kate and her mother’s relationship. 

I know. 

I’m a sucker for a good cry. 

It got me thinking about the memories I keep of my children. And how some are only mine, because you were too small to know, but now we may share them together from these years forward.

So let me tell you this, Charlotte.  

I remember the big stuff: your birth, your goofy grins, watching all our family members look into your newness in wonder and I could let out a deep exhale, knowing if the worst happened to me, you are always safe. Their faces told me everything I needed to know about the security of your future.

What I didn’t know to remember was the last time your tiny baby cry took on a deeper tone, and stopped making my whole-body tingle. When did you stop needing me to hold your hand down every step? Or the last time I let go of the guilt, because you didn’t sob when I left you at school. Funny how these little things don’t stick, but when we are in them, that’s all there is.

You continue to grow and we all grow around you. It feels similar to when you’d toddle about, just gaining your footing, refusing my hand; needing my hand. I missed the mark so many times. Our darkest days together, were supposed to be filled with light. But you showed me the grit I’m capable of. Before you, I never gave myself enough credit. 

And now you are 6. I love the little woman you are becoming and the one you are with your sisters. I love the person you gifted me within myself, without you, I wouldn’t be this. You are my first baby and while I may have made you, the way I see it, you made me.