Me and My Shadow

With the days ticking away until the Deuce's arrival, I find myself feeling a little sad because I know my relationship with Jack is going to change. For most of my life, I have had reactions like this. The anticipation of a life changing event brings enormous dread and anxiety (and usually tears). As you might imagine, once the change occurs, I couldn't be happier or imagine my life any other way. But for now, I am content to wallow.

Of course I'm excited at the prospect of the Deuce's arrival. And I'm not worried, like many are, about how I could love another child as much as I love Jack. I just know that I will. And I know that I will look back and wonder what life was like before the Deuce. But right now, in this moment, I am having trouble saying goodbye to this time in my life when it's just Jack and me.

Perhaps especially because poor Billy has been working so hard, Jack is my main man these days. We pretty much do everything together. This age is just magical - he is so smart and inquisitive and observant and conversational that it is a pure joy to be around him. And now that he will only speak in full sentences (a subject for a later post), I am privy to everything that goes on in his head.

To my great joy, however, he remains sweet and snuggly. He loves his trucks and trains but he is not a rough and tumble little boy. His world is full of hand-holding and hugging (BIG HUGS he exclaims) and kisses. I am in awe of the wonder that fills his eyes when he sees a tacky display of Christmas tree lights. I am amazed by the wisdom and determination I see when he's doing a puzzle or explaining something about his trains. I love the excitement in his voice when he tells me about a frontloader or a digger moving dirt into a dumptruck. I love the love in his heart when he puts his head on my stomach, feels the baby moving (which Jack says is the baby talking to him), and gives him kisses or shares a toy. I wish I could capture all of it on video but the minute you pull the video camera out, the kid clams up tighter than a witness being interrogated.

Part of me, then, (the part that remembers what a newborn - even a really good newborn - is like) is afraid. I know that Jack will never again have my undivided attention and so I worry that I will miss one of these moments, or that I won't register them the way that I should. (The poor Deuce never stood a chance getting undivided attention. This is also a subject for another post but ask my father about his theories on birth order; although all of you latter born children should really stop whining because all first born children know that you guys get away with bloody murder at our expense...). I am so worried that this special bond we have will somehow change, somehow lessen if he feels that my love and time and focus are split. I don't want him to feel sad or lonely or short-changed. And yet as I read this, I know that he will feel all of those things, just at a later date, and because of careless friends or classmates or girls. And yes, in the grand scheme of things, I know he won't remember. But I will.

Part of me is sad that, like with any relationship, we are transitioning to a new phase. I have been so incredibly lucky to have had the chance to be with Jack for the last two years - it is a joy that I wouldn't trade for all the money in the world. And I can only imagine how much better it will be when there are four of us. But that doesn't mean I can't mourn the passing of this stage.