Siblings at the Birth
I never believed that having children at birth was a good idea. “The blood! The trauma! The mother’s pain!” I’d throw up my hands in horror with everyone else, whenever the subject was mentioned. Then one day I had occasion to actually witness the child of a dear friend of mine, at the birth of her second child, and in the course of a couple of hours, I did a complete about-face on the subject.
Her little boy, and he was only two and a half, was thrilled to be there, and not at all disturbed by any of the goings on. He ignored his mother for the most part, coming in to the room to “check-in” now and again, but spending most of the time playing outside the room. When the baby began crowning though, he was right there going “What is that? What is that, mama?” Then all of a sudden the realization hit, and he remembered all those birth videos he had seen. He shouted with joy and wonder: “MAMA LOOK!!! LOOK MAMA!!!! THE BABY IS COMING OUT! IT’S OUR BABY’S HEAD!!!” His little body was trembling with excitement and joy as he watched the rest of the birth, keeping his mother up to date with an almost continual stream of updates! I couldn’t believe it. I had witnessed a once-in-a-lifetime experience in the life of that child, and in my own life.
When I became pregnant with my own second child a year later, my partner and I made the determination that we would not deny our older child, who would be two years and seven months at the time of the birth, the same experience. We would not exclude him.
When I went into labor, we called my son's special support person, and the two of them spent most of the labor playing outside and eating snacks. My son came in to visit me once and awhile. He was soooo sweet! He would pat me and give me kisses. “It’s o.k. Momma, I will help you.” I was a little surprised that I did not find his presence in the least irritating or distracting. There were some tense moments there at the end when the baby had a few minutes of shoulder dystocia, and had to be given oxygen after birth, but none of that seems to have phased my son. He just gazed at the baby, patting me absentmindedly. Later he told me with a very serious expression, “You did hard work mama. It’s hard work to push a baby out. You were brave. I helped you and gave you pats.”
In retrospect, having him there was a wonderful decision on our part. When I was pregnant, I dreaded so much the coming competition between my children, and my son's frustration with the new baby. It was my worst fear. But there has been none of that! Witnessing the birth helped my son bond with his sister immediately, and cut the sibling rivalry down to almost nothing. If I had any advice to give moms about the easiest way to help integrate a new baby with an older sibling, it would be to include the older child in the birth. Never once have I seen my son demonstrate a speck of aggression towards his sister. If he feels pushed aside, or in need of attention that he can’t have at the moment, he dissolves into a heap on his own, but never punishes her for it. My son saw with his own eyes that our baby came out of me. She was OF ME, not just something that we picked shopping, because we wanted one, like a pet or something. A few mornings after the birth I woke up to find my son sitting on the bed, looking down at the baby and me. “You have two babies now Momma.”, and he smiled.
When my daughter was just a couple of weeks old, I was out of the room for a moment and when I came back, I found my son lying next to the baby, with his arms around her. He then delivered quite a speech. “We’re snuggling. I love my baby! I just love her so much! She’s so sweet. I want to keep her in our family. Look at her nose. It’s so tiny!” (My heart goes: SQUEEZE. )
My son grasped the specialness, the sacredness, of being gifted with a new sister because he was there to be suffused with the atmosphere of the birth, because he was there to see exactly where she came from. About a year later I asked him one day if he could remember when his sister was born. He grabbed my hand, and grinning ear to ear, dragged me into the bedroom to point at our bed. "It is where I sleep, Mama! Katie was holding me!" Then he made a noise that I recognized immediately, "Puh Puh Puh Puh". I almost fell right over!
I never believed that having children at birth was a good idea. “The blood! The trauma! The mother’s pain!” I’d throw up my hands in horror with everyone else, whenever the subject was mentioned. Then one day I had occasion to actually witness the child of a dear friend of mine, at the birth of her second child, and in the course of a couple of hours, I did a complete about-face on the subject.
Her little boy, and he was only two and a half, was thrilled to be there, and not at all disturbed by any of the goings on. He ignored his mother for the most part, coming in to the room to “check-in” now and again, but spending most of the time playing outside the room. When the baby began crowning though, he was right there going “What is that? What is that, mama?” Then all of a sudden the realization hit, and he remembered all those birth videos he had seen. He shouted with joy and wonder: “MAMA LOOK!!! LOOK MAMA!!!! THE BABY IS COMING OUT! IT’S OUR BABY’S HEAD!!!” His little body was trembling with excitement and joy as he watched the rest of the birth, keeping his mother up to date with an almost continual stream of updates! I couldn’t believe it. I had witnessed a once-in-a-lifetime experience in the life of that child, and in my own life.
When I became pregnant with my own second child a year later, my partner and I made the determination that we would not deny our older child, who would be two years and seven months at the time of the birth, the same experience. We would not exclude him.
When I went into labor, we called my son's special support person, and the two of them spent most of the labor playing outside and eating snacks. My son came in to visit me once and awhile. He was soooo sweet! He would pat me and give me kisses. “It’s o.k. Momma, I will help you.” I was a little surprised that I did not find his presence in the least irritating or distracting. There were some tense moments there at the end when the baby had a few minutes of shoulder dystocia, and had to be given oxygen after birth, but none of that seems to have phased my son. He just gazed at the baby, patting me absentmindedly. Later he told me with a very serious expression, “You did hard work mama. It’s hard work to push a baby out. You were brave. I helped you and gave you pats.”
In retrospect, having him there was a wonderful decision on our part. When I was pregnant, I dreaded so much the coming competition between my children, and my son's frustration with the new baby. It was my worst fear. But there has been none of that! Witnessing the birth helped my son bond with his sister immediately, and cut the sibling rivalry down to almost nothing. If I had any advice to give moms about the easiest way to help integrate a new baby with an older sibling, it would be to include the older child in the birth. Never once have I seen my son demonstrate a speck of aggression towards his sister. If he feels pushed aside, or in need of attention that he can’t have at the moment, he dissolves into a heap on his own, but never punishes her for it. My son saw with his own eyes that our baby came out of me. She was OF ME, not just something that we picked shopping, because we wanted one, like a pet or something. A few mornings after the birth I woke up to find my son sitting on the bed, looking down at the baby and me. “You have two babies now Momma.”, and he smiled.
When my daughter was just a couple of weeks old, I was out of the room for a moment and when I came back, I found my son lying next to the baby, with his arms around her. He then delivered quite a speech. “We’re snuggling. I love my baby! I just love her so much! She’s so sweet. I want to keep her in our family. Look at her nose. It’s so tiny!” (My heart goes: SQUEEZE. )
My son grasped the specialness, the sacredness, of being gifted with a new sister because he was there to be suffused with the atmosphere of the birth, because he was there to see exactly where she came from. About a year later I asked him one day if he could remember when his sister was born. He grabbed my hand, and grinning ear to ear, dragged me into the bedroom to point at our bed. "It is where I sleep, Mama! Katie was holding me!" Then he made a noise that I recognized immediately, "Puh Puh Puh Puh". I almost fell right over!
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