When my daughter was three years old, she caught wind of the fact that there might be competition on the horizon. Although oblivious to my burgeoning belly, she’d begun to pick up on the general baby talk in the air.
Anxious to maintain her status as center of the family universe, our toddler began to ask for stories about when she was a baby. She had lots of questions, especially about the day she was born.
Once armed with basic facts, she initiated a morning routine that would last for months. Each morning, she crawled up under my nightgown and announced her impending birth. I would do a bit of groaning and pushing until she popped out gleefully, announcing,
“Here I am!”
Her father and I would shout,
“It’s a girl!”
A celebration of hugs and kisses followed, and the world was new. For our three-year-old, it was a matter of still mattering—of confirming her worth despite the oncoming storm of a baby brother. This guy would not steal her thunder.
As the delivery date approached, we got her a baby doll, with a blankie and a bottle, to give to her when she arrived at the hospital to see her new brother for the first time. Her new, essential role would be as a big sister with a baby of her own. She still mattered.
The little guy who finally arrived eventually found his own essential role in our family. From the time he was a little boy, he had an urge to protect a mother who rarely admitted that she needed it.
He pretended to take my temperature when I was sick and welcomed me home like a Labrador when I returned from the grocery store. He knew that I hated violence so, when we watched cartoons together and a scary scene was about to happen, he would slide his little hand under my glasses to shield me from the shark or alien or bad guy. He is still the guy who protects me when life overwhelms.
Knowing that we matter, matters for adults as well as children. Many of us feel lost after retirement or an empty nest or crushing grief. Finding a place to feel that we belong can pull us from the sidelines and confirm that we are necessary. It can create a safe place for all of us to take on the aliens and dragons and bad guys ahead.
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Thank you for your story and the important reminder. It’s so simple to let those around us know that they matter. The challenge is in making it a regular practice. I’m up for it!
I think our sons are clones. Mine always kept tabs on my whereabouts. For my birthday when he was around 8, he bought me extra long oven mitts because he’d seen me burn myself pulling something out of the oven. He’s still sweet and protective now in his 40s.
Dear Annie, thanks for this lovely post. As you have perhaps noticed, the topic of "mattering" is an increasingly popular subject at present. (Am currently reading a more academic type of book about this subject, and, in the course of reading, I'm learning much about myself.) If only more of us would consider this topic of "mattering", which, in our current society, seems more vital than ever. Wishing you well!