Erika, almost four, arrived home from the birthing class with Mommy and Daddy full of excitement, experiences and questions. She met lots of other kids with their moms and dads, the moms all with big bellies. Were they expecting her new brother too? She talked most about seeing the brand new babies in the hospital nursery, and especially the little brown one who was only four hours old. When she came home from school that day, he was just being born. She heard the babies going “wah” and noticed that’s what all babies do…go “wah.”
The excitement made it hard for her to sleep that night and seemed to make real what was going to occur in her family. She was getting a new baby brother. How would life be different with another kid? Would Mommy and Daddy still love her?
We started to make changes in our home to make room for the addition to our family. Erika’s new “big girl” room upstairs on the third floor was painted and papered, and we moved in a single bed, the one her grandfather had slept in from age 3. When the carpeting was put down everything in the room was assembled. Erika watched as I carried up her mattress and box spring, her night table, chest of drawers and night-light. She knew that she would be moving but seemed confused about what that meant and about what I was doing. When it was time to bring up her clothes and toys she began to understand and get excited. She helped carry her stuffed animals and her dresses up the stairs from her old room on the second floor.
She placed clothes in the right drawers, and arranged her animals and dolls on different shelves of her bookcase. Every animal she placed had to be considered from across the room to be sure that the positioning was correct. She asked Daddy and Mommy if each looked right and if the colors went together. She was proud of her decorating expertise. When all the stuff was set up, the three of us stood at the door examining the finished product. It was perfect we all agreed and smiled broadly. Erika understood that this would be her very own bedroom down the hall from her very own bathroom. A little unsure now she asked:
“Am I going to sleep here? Am I going to sleep here starting tonight?”
“Yes, starting tonight, and tomorrow we’re going to begin to set up the new baby’s room in your old room.”
“Is the new baby here? What is he called?”
Mommy said: “No, he’s not here yet, but he will be soon, and you and I have to set up his room downstairs like we set up yours here. I think his name will be Andrew. What do you think of that?”
“I like that…is Andrew going to sleep in my room?”
“Andrew will sleep in your old room downstairs.”
“Yes, my room is up here on the third floor, and I’ll be the big sister. I’m going to leave some toys and pictures downstairs for Andrew.” She said placing a few dolls and pictures at the top of the stairs to be brought down again.
She took my hand and we stood together in her new big girl room, so bright and full of toys. Except for the perfect neatness it seemed as though she had lived in this room for months. She hopped onto her new high bed and jumped and jumped and jumped, then abruptly sat down gazing around her.
“Am I going to sleep here?”
“Yes”
“Tonight?”
“Yes”
A little nervously she said: “OK I like that, because I want to sleep here in my room. Andrew can sleep downstairs, OK? Yes, that ‘s OK.”
After looking around some more she busied herself arranging and rearranging her stuffed animals.
That evening at eight o’clock we all walked up to the third floor to do our usual nightly ritual in new surroundings. Together we entered Erika’s new bathroom.
She climbed onto her stool to reach the sink, and squeezed toothpaste onto her Sesame Street toothbrush. She reached the handle and turned on the cold water. After brushing her teeth, she rinsed with water and swallowed it by mistake. She wiped her hands and face with new towels, stepped down and marched resolutely into her big girl bedroom.
She climbed into bed and pulled the covers up to her neck. Together we told a story about her and her favorite movie characters buying sneakers. Then we all sang Rock-a-By Baby, after which Erika drank a sip of water from her Teenage Ninja Turtle cup. The final part of the ritual was the hugs and kisses.
As we turned to leave the room, Erika said:
“If you close the door I’ll be scared”
We assured her that the door would stay open and the hallway light would stay on.
Erika smiled and turned onto her side under the covers and asked us to pat her back. Next I turned off the overhead bedroom light, and my wife and I walked softly down the stairs, by Erika’s now empty old room and into the den to watch TV.
It was 9 o’clock and all three of us were excited about our new stage of life, and a little apprehensive too.
At 9:25 Erika called from the top of the stairs softly at first, then louder and more nervously.
“Daddy…Daddy…Daddy…Daddy.”
I walked down the hallway to the foot of the stairs to the third floor. Erika stood at the top, a scared, tearful waif.
“What?”
“Daddy, I’m scared…it’s too dark up here. Could you turn on a lamp in my room?”
I said yes, picked up a spare lamp and climbed up the stairs to her open arms.
“Pick me up,” she said, and I carried her the ten feet to her bed. I placed the lamp on her night table, plugged it in and turned it on. Even a dim bulb blazed the room with light at 9:30.
At 10:30 her tiny voice again called out.
“Daddy…Daddy…Daddy…Daddy.”
Again the response.
“What?”
“I can’t sleep. My room is too light. Can you turn off the hallway light?”
I turned off the third floor hallway light from a switch on the second floor and called up.
“Is that OK now?”
She held out her arms for a hug.
“I want to give you a hug for turning out the light for me.”
How could I refuse such a loving manipulation? So, again I climbed the stairs to her waiting arms. She leaned her head on my shoulder, and I carried her into her room, placing her gently on her bed. She pulled the covers up to her neck and puckered her lips for another kiss good night. Again I complied for yet one more of those sweet three-year-old kisses.
At 11:30 my wife and I were just getting into bed ourselves. She was immediately snuggled and half asleep on her side, and all the lights in the house were out except for the lamp in Erika’s room.
I pulled the covers up to my neck, and as my eyes drooped toward sleep, the little voice was heard again from the top of the stairs.
“Daddy…Daddy…Daddy…Daddy.”
I was starting to bristle now.
“What?” I replied somewhat less lovingly.
“I’m scared and I can’t sleep. Can you turn out my bedroom lamp?”
“You can reach it. Turn it out yourself!”
She stomped her feet a few times in response to that refusal.
I got up and walked to the stairs. Again her arms were outstretched, and now her expression was deep sadness.
“I want to give you a hug.”
This time I experience myself stomping up the steps to reach her open arms. I hear my voice loudly replying to her now ritualized questions. As I lifted he to carry her back to her bedroom, she held her hands to her ears.
“You are so loud. You’re mad at me.”
She was tragedy personified, a truly gifted performer, and again I was hooked.
I softly but with resolve placed her again in her bed. My voice spoke like a wagging finger.
“Now this is the last time tonight. GO TO SLEEP!”
“But I’ll be scared,” She whined. “Who will protect me?”
Uh Oh…I was softening again.
I thought that would be it, but No, there would be one more call.
As I trudged up the stairs once more, my anger and annoyance shifted and disintegrated, giving way to an appreciation of Erika’s bravery in the face of a big change in her little life. She was becoming aware of the coming of another being, perhaps taking what had always been her total attention and total love in the crib in the attached room right next to Mommy and Daddy. She was starting to grasp the meaning of who she would be as “the big sister.”
How much would be left for her when this stranger called Andrew arrives?
By the time I slipped into her outstretched arms, and lifted her up it was with softness and respect for her struggle. She must have felt it because she immediately settled down and relaxed when I lay her in her bed. Finally she was in her sleeping position, her eyes softly closed, her hands formed into loose fists, and the sides of her mouth turned down.
I knew this was the last call, and I settled finally into sleep for the rest of the night.
Early the next morning Erika called from above.
“It’s daytime. Let’s make the baby’s room.”
Her enthusiasm was a welcomed change to be taken advantage of. I called up:
“OK. You get dressed, and I’ll bring up the parts of your old crib from the basement.”
“My old crib? OK…I’m too big for a crib, but it will be just right for Andrew.”
I agreed: “Um hm.”
Only barely awake I walked down the basement stairs to begin the job of “re-babying” the room, changing it from a little girl’s bedroom to a little boy’s nursery.
“Here we go again!”
I was about to rebuild a crib with a helper. Erika was excited and believed herself an expert in how the crib should look, and where the decorations should be placed. She held parts as I screwed them together. She balanced brackets and springs while I snapped them to the frame. What had taken hours to assemble the first time using the confusing printed instructions, took minutes with the experience and the knowledge of Erika the one most familiar with her furniture.
The finished product bore no resemblance to her little girl bed or the big girl bed in her big girl room. When all the furniture was in place this was clearly a baby’s room. Erika and I stood in the doorway to the hall and surveyed our completed redecoration. We smiled at each other and hugged, then turned to show Mommy.
Mommy, now at the end of her nine-month pregnancy, ready to pop, slowly climbed up the stairs, each step a challenge. Even in discomfort she showed excitement in anticipation of Erika’s work. Erika’s eyes pranced and sparkled at her approval and surprise entering the room. Daddy and Mommy stood with arms around each other while Erika described every detail. All was now ready for “the Second Coming.”
Erika was now clear that she was no longer a little girl in a child’s room. She would never return to the availability and closeness of a room adjoining Mommy and Daddy. Not sure yet but she had a sense that her life had shifted to a new phase, a new independence.
The challenges of her new brother’s actual arrival were unimaginable then but would become happily and painfully clear very soon.
From that moment and until Andrew’s birth she was the big girl who was responsible for preparing the nursery for her little brother.
The Big Sister for the rest of her life…starting now.