The Second Child

When my wife was pregnant with our second child, I was worried about something I couldn't say out loud. I loved our first son so much that I didn't understand how I could love another child the same way. I thought the love would be divided. I felt guilty for even thinking it.

Our daughter was born in March. For the first week I was mostly tired. Then, one night, I was holding her while my son slept in the next room, and I understood. The love wasn't divided. It had doubled. There was a whole new room in me that hadn't existed before.

My son was jealous at first. He hit the baby with a toy, softly, to see what would happen. Now, four months later, he sings to her when she cries. Nobody taught him that. I watch them and think that the room in me isn't the only new one. He has one too.