Having a Newborn and a Preteen at the Same Time

We had just gotten our food from the buffet when it started pouring rain. We were at a luau in Hawaii, seated outside with my mom, brother, sister and aunt, and Eden (5mo) had just finished a bottle and fallen asleep. I was trying to keep her covered with an umbrella while wrapping her in a thin blanket, somehow attempting to keep her dry without making her too hot.

Then I looked over at Ava (12yo). She was eating her food and trying not to complain while rain fell onto her plate, face and hands. She wasn’t dressed warmly enough, so I pulled her closer and started layering whatever we had onto her: a poncho, a jacket and a towel. Somewhere in the middle of taking care of both of them, I realized my own dress was soaked through. I hadn’t even noticed.

That moment pretty accurately sums up what it feels like to have a newborn and a preteen at the same time. Both of my daughters need me, often at the same time, but in completely different ways. And I expected the baby to need me. I didn’t fully anticipate how much my preteen still would too.

I Thought the Age Gap Would Make This Easier

There are almost 12 years between my daughters, and before Eden was born, I really only saw the advantages of that age gap. Ava was old enough to understand that a baby would require a lot of my attention, and she was also old enough not to need me for all of the things a younger child would. She can shower and dress herself, make herself something to eat, entertain herself and get herself ready for school. I assumed all of that independence would make adding a baby to our family easier.

In many ways, it has. What I didn’t account for was the difference between being independent and not needing your mother. Ava can understand perfectly well why I’m occupied with Eden and still need my attention herself. At 12, she doesn’t necessarily need less mothering than she did when she was younger. She just needs a different kind.

Eden’s needs are incredibly physical. She needs me to feed her, change her, dress her, put her to sleep, hold her and comfort her. Her needs are immediate and tangible, and when she’s hungry or tired, there isn’t much room for negotiation. She needs someone to respond.

Ava needs me much more mentally and emotionally. She needs help managing her school workload, reassurance when she’s nervous about volleyball, and a place to sort through whatever is happening with friends or at school. She needs validation, advice, boundaries and perspective as she learns how to navigate more of the world for herself. Her needs aren’t as loud as a crying baby, but they aren’t any less important.

Everyone Needs Something at the Same Time

This is the part of having a newborn and a preteen that I wasn’t prepared for. I feel like I’m regularly being yanked back and forth between physicality and sensitivity. Eden might be fussy while Ava needs to talk about homework. Eden needs a bottle while Ava needs her shirt ironed, and somewhere in there, I need to eat.

Other times, Eden wants to be held while Ava wants to cry about volleyball tryouts, and I would really just like to take a shower that lasts more than 2 minutes. The baby usually can’t wait, but that doesn’t mean whatever Ava is feeling should always have to wait either. I’m constantly assessing which need is most immediate, what can be delayed and where I need to divide my attention. Sometimes my own needs don’t even register until much later, like standing in the rain and realizing my dress is already soaked through.

For almost 12 years, Ava had my undivided attention as my only child. I was intentional about being present for her physically, mentally and emotionally, and I want to be that kind of mother for Eden too. The problem is that I also still want to be that mother for Ava. There are only so many hours in a day and only so much of me to go around.

Neither One Gets the Only-Child Version of Me

I’ve had to compromise on what being present looks like. Sometimes I take Eden to one of Ava’s volleyball games even though, if Eden were my only child, I probably wouldn’t choose to have her napping and eating on the go. Sometimes Ava pushes Eden in the stroller because we’re doing something Ava wants to do and bringing the baby along is the only way we can do it. Other times, Ava goes somewhere with her dad because I can’t grab the baby and go at a moment’s notice.

There are also times when I’m physically there with Ava but don’t have as much emotional bandwidth as I used to. I’m overstimulated, tired or shorter on patience than I’d like to be. I know I’m less available to her than I was before her sister was born, and I don’t love admitting that. The hardest part of this transition has probably been accepting that I cannot be completely present, in every way, for both of them all of the time.

I think I’ve also been unconsciously comparing myself to two versions of motherhood that don’t exist anymore. Eden isn’t getting the exact experience Ava had as a baby because our family’s life doesn’t revolve exclusively around her schedule. Ava isn’t getting the mother she had before Eden because that mother didn’t have another human being physically dependent on her for most of the day. Trying to give both girls the experience they would have if each were my only child is an impossible standard.

That doesn’t stop me from occasionally worrying that neither of them is getting my best. Still, when I look past what I think I should be doing and pay attention to the children actually in front of me, they’re perfectly happy. They’re loved, secure and cared for. Our days may require more compromise than I expected, but compromise isn’t necessarily evidence that either of them is missing something important.

The Age Gap Really Does Have Its Advantages

Thankfully, most of what I imagined about having children this far apart actually is true. Ava is incredibly helpful with her sister. She can hold Eden, feed her and push the stroller, and if I need to shower, I can ask her to sit with the baby for a few minutes. Because Ava is physically self-sufficient, I’m also not trying to get two little children dressed, fed and buckled into car seats every morning.

The sweetest part may be watching Ava be a big sister at an age when she can really participate in Eden’s life. She isn’t just sharing a house with a baby. She can care for her, play with her and help me with her, and Eden gets to grow up with an older sister who is already capable of loving and looking out for her in very tangible ways. That is something I couldn’t have experienced if my children were closer in age.

If I could tell another mom one thing before having a baby with a much older child, it would be that the age gap probably will make some things easier. Your older child may be independent, helpful and completely capable of understanding why the baby requires so much of you. Just don’t mistake that understanding for not needing you.

I still worry sometimes that neither of my girls is getting my best, but I’m beginning to realize that I’m doing my best and they’re perfectly happy. Maybe the goal isn’t to give each of them the mother I would be if she were my only child, but to keep paying attention to who each of them is becoming and what she needs from me now.

Eden won’t always need me this physically, and Ava’s need for me isn’t disappearing as she gets older. Both will keep changing, which means the balance I’m figuring out today probably won’t be the balance our family needs six months from now. I’m learning how to mother them both in the season we’re actually in, knowing another version of motherhood is already on its way.