Dear Eliza,
This is likely the last letter I'll write to you while you're an only child. It better be.
We saw your brother on an ultrasound yesterday, and he is big -- 97th percentile across the board. He's probably 7.5 pounds already with a month to go. The doctor kept saying, "He's definitely on the bigger side" and "I'm sure he won't be an 11-pound baby." None of these statements encourage your Mom. We were already excited to meet him, but now we're hoping to meet him ASAP.
At points in your life you will think and occasionally say aloud, "Why couldn't I be an only child?" Being an oldest sibling, the answer is, "You were."
And I hope you enjoyed the time. I think you did. I did.
About a year after you were born, your Mom and I started discussing if we wanted to have more children: Do we want you to have a sibling? What's the impact of spreading our resources more? What is the vision for the size of our family? Does your Mom want to be pregnant again, and up to what age? What about the frozen embryos that we have left from IVF?
We hadn't entirely answered all of those questions by the time we learned we were pregnant with your brother, which is 100% how life always works. We didn't really need to. We are already enrolled in being parents, we're just deciding our major.
Naturally our concerns now are how we share our attention and how you'll adapt in the near term. I think you'll be OK. You recently chucked a baby doll across the room and giggled, so we just need to work on your baby handling or a much more evil laugh.
Here's the way I think about having another child: It won't take any love away from you. The capacity for love simply grows.
It's not unlike when we became parents. I didn't love your Mom any less when you arrived to make room in my heart for you. I loved your Mom even more just as I immediately loved you. Isn't that something? Now I'll get to watch you embrace being a big sister and love you for that, too. You're already helping out by taking more of an interest in potty training and proving to be a great negotiator, bartering for an M&M at every step of using the potty.
Our attention will spread raising another kiddo. We won't grow eyes in the back of our head to watch you both. Thank goodness for that because I'd have to keep my hair very short to keep the hair out of my back-eyes.
What I can promise is that the important stuff will still happen for you. We'll still read books at night. We'll still play on the patio when the weather is nice and get you on a balance bike soon. We'll still eat meals together, just with another messy family member at the table. I'll still write you letters on the 10th of each month.
Do you know what we're most motivated by in this last month of pregnancy? You. That's why every night before bed we say, "Dear Lord, please watch over Eliza as she sleeps, and we pray that her brother is as smart and healthy as she is."
Love, Dad