Sibling Rivalry, in Advance

So, I have this horrible fear that if and when we have another baby, Paxton is going to be ruined. See, my brother is about two-and-a-half years older than me. I'm pretty sure my arrival destroyed his life. He never liked me. I represented the demise of a world that revolved around him. I was Enemy #1. Fast forward 35-years and here Chris and I are raising the most adored little boy ever. He has a home overflowing with toys. He constantly has loving eyes staring at him. He's become accustomed to the sound of applause when he does anything from taking a bite of food to repeating a new word. Seriously, this kid is living the good life. He loves other kids, but he's never had to, say, share his mommy's adoration with them. Or her nursing "nins". He shares his home with an array of pets, but he knows full well that they all rank lower on the totem pole than him. Just this morning, he wanted Lula to move so he could play, so he smacked her on the rump with his Hot Wheel and meanly told her to "GO!". What on earth would he do to a little sibling?

Maybe it's because we waited so long to get our little boy, but Chris and I are wildly and madly in love with him. We think he makes the sun shine just a little brighter and the air smell just a little sweeter. He's the light of our lives. We don't do a very good job keeping that under wraps. He knows we find him hilarious, and he lives to make us laugh. When we're playing in the bed, and I get up to get something, he immediately moves into my spot, complete with his head on my pillow. He's even gone so far as to grab my book and pretend he's reading it, just like me. When I come back and find him there, he cracks up, knowing that he's a clever little monkey who has already mastered a fine impression of Mama. And doggone it, he's right. The kid's a hoot. I find myself laughing all day long at his antics.

So what happens when a newborn arrives, screaming for my attention? And I can't constantly watch Paxton and anticipate his needs or what he is trying to communicate to me? Do I then just sit back and watch the happy little imp become the squeaky wheel just so he can get some attention again, even if it becomes negative attention? Or do I risk infertility and wait until he's old enough to cut a few more of the apron strings and not lean so heavily on me? In two months, I'll be 35. In the fertility world, that's a tricky number. I will get the dreaded "AMA", Advanced Maternal Age, stamped on all of my medical documents. I'll have to undergo more fetal testing. And let me just admit that this body is not getting any younger. I can run and play and frolic with my toddler until the cows come home, but I better stash away a little extra money for massage therapy, because this sciatica is kicking my butt. Advil keeps me doped up enough to get through Paxton's waking hours, but when he goes to sleep, I dive for the couch as quickly as I can. I hate to be a slave to advertising, but I'm pretty sure I'm buying some Calgon with this week's groceries.

Probably I shouldn't worry about all of this yet. Cross that bridge when we come to it, and all that. I'm sure that whatever happens, our family will just grow with love and patience and happiness with each new adventure. We will hopefully teach Paxton that love can and should be shared. I would love for him to have a healthy sibling relationship. Family means everything to me. I want to raise him with the understanding that we all look out for one another. We take care of each other. There will always be enough love to go around. And we'll always believe he hung the moon.