I think I'm like other mothers when about to give birth to the second child. Underneath the excitement of adding another member to the family, there is that little nagging question . . . . "I never thought I could love anything as much as I love my first child. How is it possible to love another being that much more again? How does this work?" The idea of multiplying, or reproducing another love so big is overwhelming. You know it can and will happen, but wow!
Ethan was an only child for the first four years of his life. He and I spent so much time together playing, talking, learning, cuddling, loving, etc. We were amazingly close, and I often found it hard to believe that this happy, excited, loving creature was mine. He was a delight to have around, always entertaining, extremely compassionate, very curious, smart (of course), and just plain happy. For four years, the world revolved around Ethan, and he was fine with that. Of course he knew no different, so that was just the way life was. Somewhere around year three, he picked up on the concept of the whole brother/sister thing, and decided he'd like to have one. The idea was nice, but goodness, we were so happy, just the two of us, I didn't know if I wanted to change that, although I'd always wanted more kids. My marriage had some issues, but there was potential that they would resolve. I wasn't getting any younger, and I didn't want too big of a gap between children, so, why not!
Asa was born just before Ethan's fourth birthday. Any questions about how you can love another child as much as you loved the first had faded long before Asa's birth. We all loved this new little boy like crazy, and Ethan was such a proud big brother!! I had two sons, and they were wonderful. Ethan didn't complain much about the attention a new baby demanded. He waited patiently for a few months, then wanted to know when Asa would be able to play with him. In came the frustration of realizing that wasn't going to happen right away, but still he wanted to help with Asa, feed him bottles, etc. It was busier, but I loved my two boys!
As Ethan began to grow, the gap between the two of them grew. There was no way Asa could keep up with any of that, so Ethan had less time to devote to his little brother. Once the teenage years hit, Ethan became the prime focus again, first in small ways, and then in HUGE ways. From the age of 14 to his current age of 18, Ethan was the primary focus for all of us as with dealt with his drug addiction. Asa was more amazingly patient than I can imagine anyone would be. There were so many times when I had to leave him, at the age of 10, in the waiting area while I had 30 minute visitations with Ethan, so many times I hauled him up to Wichita Falls for the weekend so we could visit Ethan, so many nights I had to leave him at home while I went to family counseling for Ethan, so many times he stayed in his room when Ethan and I fought, and it was scary. Asa had every reason in the world to act out for attention, but he never did. As much as I hated it, it often felt like I was the mother of one again, Ethan demanded so very much! That feeling always made me sad for Asa, but he didn't complain.
When Ethan moved near his father last March, Asa and I both started on a different path. Although there were relapses for Ethan, bad visits back home, and other demands from him still, Asa and I began to center again. The next thing I know, it's all about me and Asa, and Ethan was no longer the central focus, mainly because of geography. It wasn't long before I once again felt like the mother of one. Then I felt bad for Ethan because it was so much easier not to deal with any of the drama when it wasn't living with me. Now, Ethan is in jail, and will be for a while, and Asa and I are getting to know each other in ways we weren't able to before. I so cherished the first four years I had alone with Ethan, and now I will cherish the last 5 years I have alone with Asa. However, I can't help feeling like I was cheated out of many years where I truly had "two boys." There were a few, but not enough. Sometimes I don't want to talk about Ethan because I get too sad. When those times come, I have lately found myself saying, "I have two sons, I have two sons."
