Because apparently I work, in part, for encouragement, I am going to run with the sibling theme again. Also, as you will see, it is pressing, pressing on me.
I was waiting for it, somewhere in the back of my mind, although I hadn't fully acknowledged it to myself. We had skirted around it in some of the conversations I've had with Lily and recounted here, the "why don't you smile at me like you smile at Annika" comments, the inner wincing and all-consuming balancing act that has become the melody of my life.
She said it, asked me, a few days ago, earlier in the week. We were playing with blocks on the rug; she was building a palace. I made a hallway with a roof. She removed the roof. It doesn't have a roof, she explained. Ah.
Then: You love me, Mama. A statement.
Yes, of course I do. You know that. Do you want to know how much? (Our usual game, ignored.)
You love me more than Annika, right?
I was holding a block. I moved it from one hand to the other, the way babies do when they hit that developmental marker.
I love you differently, I said. But I love you both. She looked at me from under her eyelashes, a little coy, maybe.
But you love me a little more.
No, I said slowly. You are my firstborn girl. My oldest girl. And I love you to infinity and back and even more than that. But I love you both.
And that was that. We started building again. Annika crawled around us, pulling pieces of dog hair off the rug.
Now, as I am sitting here writing this, Lily's babysitter is giving her a bath, while holding Annika on her lap. I hear a pleasant hum of conversation, light, acceptable splashing, little cooing sounds from Annika. And then, louder (or does it seem that way because I hear it?), Lily says: You know, I don't remember when Annika was born. It was so such a long time ago.
I want to rush in and ask her what she means. She has said, in recent days, that she does remember before Annika was here, but now I wonder. Is it the notion of an Annika-free existence that she wants to remember? Is it already a ghost memory, this having of me to herself, the completeness of my attention and affection? Or does she mean the day itself, the ride in the cab up to the hospital, the moment when she saw me, saw through the mess I was, unrecognizable to myself in the mirror, and her eyes lit up because there I was, before she saw the baby, before she saw anyone else in the room.
And then I feel a wash of panic, this by now familiar identification. Do I remember? Do I really remember or am I, too, idealizing, recreating, constructing the memories myself--with a different sort of Plexiglas magnetic shapes, actual shapes, not fabricated shapes, with real magnetic edges, but able to be moved and manipulated, laid together in an infinite number of equally stable if ephemeral ways. Magnetic shapes, the three-dimensional objects they can be used to build, are not meant to last, as I am always telling Lily. They are meant to be disassembled, then built up again. But into what? What is real?
I have no memory of before Alison was born. I was barely a year old. But I will confess to wondering if some part of my brain stores a visceral memory of that time, those thirteen-and-a-half months when I was all there was: the sun, the moon, the stars--all of infinity--the first.
3 comments:
Well, I am second born and I am the favorite in my family.:> If you were to ask the first born he would say he is the favorite. I guess looking back at my childhood, I was never alone and never wanted to be the only one. I think that when you show love to a child they always know you love them, but they ask for attention the questions brings to the table and yes everyone likes to be the best, the favorite or the special one.
I don't think overwhelming sibling rivalry is an issue everyone wrestles with. There were five kids in my family and I promise you that every one of us felt (and still feels) like we were a team - rivalry did not dominate our lives as it seems to have done in yours according to your entries here and in your books. I don't know if it's parenting or just congruent personalities. I also think its ok to tell every child that they're your favorite in one way or the other - everyone likes reassurance that they're important and valued for who they are. I worry that you are transferring you and your sister's relationship on your two daughters too much - remember they are their own people. And a pre-schoolers questions don't always indicate anxiety - sometimes they are just trying to work things through in their heads.
I would probably agree that not everyone deals with sibling rivalry. Lord knows, most families have more than one child so it's a pretty common state of affairs to grow up with siblings. But I would hazard a guess that being one of several/many is a different experience from being 1 of 2. That allows only one other person to be the focus of any thoughts (good or bad).
As I said in a previous post, I'm the youngest member of my family - one of six. But my dynamic was very different as I was the only one from my parents' marriage. I never saw rivalry among my dad's kids (there were four of them). But I know my brother on my mom's side (the only kid til I came along) had issues with me. Again, there are issues of divorce so that muddies the issue.
However, on a purely anecdotal level, I know three families (and now reading Amy's posts four families) with a two child dynamic. And they have all gone through some iteration of the older child feeling the loss of being an only child or the younger one struggling to find their place.
Another point to remember is that as kids get older they forget these younger days of working through their feelings (whether they're anxieties or simply questions). And I think that's part of what Amy was getting at when she was wondering about what Lilly meant by not remembering when Annika was born. So as Lily gets older, Annika will be the natural state of affairs and if she's working out her place in the world now, she may not have any feelings of sibling rivalry when she gets older.
I think I had a point when I started this post, but I've lost it somewhere along the way. I fear I've devolved into ramblings. I blame my husband for playing Andrew Lloyd Webber songs that were performed on American Idol this week.
Don't know if this post has offered anything useful. Take it for what it's worth. :)
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