It’s 8 pm and I just sat down for the first time. I watch my 2 year old son as he peacefully nurses, curled up in his moms lap like an armadillo. His eyes are slowly closing and opening; still gazing into his moms eyes while his belly fills with warm nourishment. His hand, resting on her chest, relaxes and falls lazily to his side. My wife, glowing in motherhood, who just got home from a 12 hour shift and was met by our eager son, glances my way. I smile and she sighs in defeat of the day that was. TheBoy’s eyes are no longer open; he has succumbed to the sleeping potion that is his nursies.
This is our routine; their relationship. This is his comfort, his safe space. His 2 years of existence have teetered on his nursies. They turn his bad days good, and a strong bond stronger. The road to this relationship staple was rocky, but victorious. Every night ends with his mamma’s milk. While it does not actually put him to sleep that often anymore, he still has his safe place; his nightly fulfillment.
This will all soon change in 7 short months and what was once his refuge will now be communal; a shared commodity between him and his new sibling. I sit, watching how blissfully unaware TheBoy is about what his future holds. Peacefully lost in his happy dreams he sleeps. His life will forever be altered. Mom’s attention will be divided.
I can only speculate how he will take to this change. Will he be receptive? Annoyed? See it as a rival for competition? Embrace the newness? Regress in his behavior? His routine will now involve an extra human; one to look after, to care for, to bond with, to love. I’m both excited and nervous at this change he will experience, that we will experience. Time truly will tell and as I think about all his attributes, he’ll adapt well to his new sibling. I think my worries lie within me, not my son.