Two Loves

One of the reasons pregnancy lasts so long must be to help everyone adjust: a new baby is coming! I'm not sure who needed the time more, Maya (the almost-six year old), or me (the almost-forty).

The relationship I have with Maya, like so many parents with their children, combines the deepest love and intimacy. She nursed until she was 5.5 so we've also had an especially intimate physical relationship. We've talked with her as a tiny human being, a Real person, since the day she was born. We are teaching her to assess her own needs and work to meet them. We do this in many ways, but we started in her infancy. When she cried, we understood she was communicating something so we tried to understand. She's learning that expressing her needs is the first step in meeting them. We shared simple sign language with her so she began talking in a very real way at around nine months old. We communicate constantly. We have a history.

Enter Althea. Now four weeks old, Althea has only just left her state of being "love in the air." (That's the way we answered, "Where was I?" when Maya asked about our lives before her.) Althea's capacity to express love is debatable. There's no doubt, however, she *feels* love though it hides behind her limited communication skills. She feels it and I do, too. The newness itself makes it special. Anticipation of this love growing warms me. Though she can't tell me yet in any of the traditional ways, I feel her loving me.

Before Althea was born I was scared. I don't know if it's because I was a first child myself or simply because my relationship with Maya is so close, but, at about 7 months into the pregnancy I realized I was grieving. I was terrified I'd lose what I have with Maya. I didn't know how I would share my love, let alone my time. For all of the children's books teaching us that love doesn't come in limited supplies, I didn't believe it. I worried. I felt I was abandoning Maya with this new baby.

After reaching an emotional crisis point I identified the fear. I was able to counsel myself into understanding that, yes, things were going to change, but Maya was not losing me. I was not discarding her just because this new person was entering my life.

Someone told me to think of love like the flame of a candle. When you tip another candle to it, the flame grows bigger as the second candle ignites. Then both burn strong.

Two unique loves are expanding my world. The one, full of history and depth. The other, new and visceral. It turns out there's more than enough room in my heart for both. And, even better, loving both of them makes all the love burn stronger.


.