Nostalgia

I wrote last week about the wonderful new family dynamic we have with a second child. But there’s a flip side.
    One of the things I wasn’t prepared for when Bear was born was the nostalgia I’d feel for the days when Zuzu was the center of our universe. I was alarmed by this nostalgia, because it seemed akin to regret at having another baby, which I was absolutely not willing to allow. My heart was brimming with love for Bear, so I tried to banish the nostalgia. After all—when Zuzu was born, I never wanted to go back to the time before she was born. It should be the same with Bear.
    One night when Bear was about a week old, I was putting Zuzu to bed and was about to sing the bedtime lullaby I had made up for her, and started crying instead. The nostalgic feeling finally washed over me. I’d made up that bedtime lullaby when Zuzu was a small baby, while I held her, swaying back and forth, the child who had opened up that deep place in my heart and let the mommy love gush forth. And I’d sung it to her almost every night since then, my only child, the most special child on the planet. It used to be just us, and now it wasn’t, and never would be again.
    Because Bear fits in so well to our family, the nostalgia faded quickly. It is still there, but it is sweet and gentle now, and it only comes when I reminisce. So I wish I had let myself feel the stronger version before that night. It was both legitimate and short-lived.
    I’ve always known I wanted more than one child, because I grew up with a big sister and it was great. She was my best friend. So I knew that siblings are good. Before and during my pregnancy with Bear, I would look at Ginny playing by herself and think how glad I was going to be when she had a companion.
    It didn’t occur to me that the addition of that companion would mean the loss of something else. Zuzu’s days of being our only child had ended, and I had to say goodbye to them, with a heartache I didn’t anticipate.
    When Zuzu grows up she probably won’t remember the pre-Bear days of her life. But I will remember the joy and wonder of those two years, Anders and me looking at each other and saying “What did we do with ourselves before Zuzu came along?” and shaking our heads, because before Zuzu came along we didn’t understand how much richer our lives would be when she did, and now we couldn’t imagine life without her, our happy, chatty, curly-haired little girl bouncing as she runs through the house, and me singing to her at bedtime: “There’s a mommy and a daddy who love you very much …”
    Siblings are good. So we welcomed Bear with thankfulness and joy, and said goodbye to the Zuzu-only days. But I think it’s okay if we miss them a little bit.