Right or Wrong, the Reality of Age Gaps

Our two young sons were in the backyard jumping high, flipping, and wrestling on the trampoline with a friend who had come over to play. From the living room, we could hear their shrieks and laughter. We watched our baby roll around on the floor, picking up random toys to put in his mouth.

Each time the big boys’ joy audibly filtered into the house, our baby would glance outside with wide eyes. Sometimes he would laugh and clap in response; other times he would just gaze.

I told my husband, “I think he has quite a few years of feeling left out ahead of him.” My husband replied, “I think more than that.”

Thus is the struggle with age differences. Our big boys are 6 and 4 years old, 25 months apart. Our baby is almost a full 4 years behind our middle son.

I spend half my time apologizing to our baby about the things he can’t do just yet – and all the things to come that he won’t be able to do just yet – and the other half of my time marveling at big brothers as they care for him, feed him, laugh with him, love him.

It is clear that our baby is in no way missing out on affection. But the day will come when the big boys will pack up quickly and leave on an afternoon fishing excursion with dad, but the littlest has to stay behind. The day will come when the bigs will get to freely jump into the swimming pool, paddling around the deep end, and the littlest will have to stay in his life vest close to mom.

I grew up five and a half years older than my sister, and we often found ourselves at odds with each other, especially once I became an emotional and selfish teenager. While I had fond memories of playing school, Barbies, and house with her, there came a time when I no longer wanted her to tag along.

As a mother now, that age gap between my sister and me seems it would have made balance so easy for my mom (but really, is it ever easy?) The first couple of years after our second son was born were hard, because my older toddler still needed me so. But I watch them now – budding best friends – and it all seems worth it.

Adding our third, well it’s still hard because now there is no balance. But it’s easier because the older two are quite a bit more “independent.” But I hope to watch the same relationships mold between the baby and his two older siblings, all with the valued brotherly instincts of protection and support.

There is no right or wrong number for age difference in families. And we all know how children don’t necessarily come according to the plan our minds had mapped out. I guess, as moms, we just hope that no age gap will separate our littles from genuine love for one another.