An open letter to my first born, before you become an older brother

My darling boy,

The teeny-tiny love of my life. I’m watching you sleep, your little toes buried in the squishy flesh of my thighs, something you have done for as long as I can remember, almost as a way of knowing I’m here even deep in slumber. Long dark eyelashes resting on the softest cheeks. Cheeks that are no longer quite as chubby as they once were, now that you are growing. 

As we lay here, cuddled up in your too-small-for-mummy bed, I’m aware that there’s 3 of us here (and a million soft toys, my soft boy). In just a few weeks your baby brother, currently nestled safely in my womb, the home you used to inhabit, will be here, earth side with us. And I’m torn. 

Right now, you are our universe. Our sun and moon, our whole galaxy of stars. Everything starts and ends with you, my baby, and we are a little team of 3. Best friends. On Sunday mornings you and daddy bring me breakfast in bed and we sit and eat toast in bed. You look happily at us both, Mummy & Daddy, and we snuggle contentedly in a bed full of crumbs. Tonight you fell out of your bed and we both rushed in. I scooped you up and cuddled the shock away, while Daddy sorted your bed and kissed your head. We both pick you up from nursery, sit on the floor to play trains, and blow bubbles in the bath. 

But soon we will be adding a new member to our team. You’ll never remember this time when you were everything. When we were three. I desperately I hope I am doing the right thing for you. I’m trying not to think of it as dividing our time between you & a new little human, but instead, gifting you a best friend. Someone to play trains with when Mummy and Daddy are exhausted. Someone to take on days out, to get excited with at Christmas, to tease and laugh with. 

I also know you’ll be an amazing big brother. Whether it’s a new soft toy, or box of cereal you love, your default is to cuddle. If you know something hurts, you shower it with kisses. You rub my massive bump and shout “hello baby!” Through my belly button. You’re a kind little human. You share with friends. You never act spitefully or with malice. It’s one of my favourite things about you, and believe me, there are many. 

So the next few months are going to be hard. We’ll muddle through them like we have everything else in your short life – together, as best we can, with a good sense of humour and lots of cuddles. I promise that even when I’m cluster feeding for hours, running on zero sleep and feel like my brain is shutting down, I’ll always have time for a snuggle with my big boy. 

All my love,

Mummy x


  1. This has made me cry. For a long time the only thing I felt when I had Amelie was guilt. Guilt for Evelyn not being the only one, guilt over the one we lost and pretty much everything. This is beautiful xx

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