First born children have a way of re-orbiting the universe so that it revolves around them. For the past 20 months, the sun in our house has been a brown-eyed girl with wispy curls and a big personality. But a small stick just informed us that in a few months, she’ll have a little brother or sister. Competition.

I’m sure there will be fights over toys and sippy cups and (if it’s a girl) over clothes and boys one day. But that’s not the rivalry I’m talking about. I’m a mom with just two arms, one lap and 24 hours in a day. And while I know I have the ability to care for and love more than one child, I’m concerned neither child will get the undivided attention my daughter now enjoys.

“That’s a good thing,” people tell me. “Children need to know the world’s not all about them.” While I agree with that in theory, the truth is I’m the one who’s nervous about giving up that quality time. I relish those 30 minutes I spend with my daughter on the couch in the mornings. She sits in my lap drinking juice and watching cartoons, and I just soak it in. Because I can. I’m looking forward to moments like that with the next baby, but I worry they’ll be few and far between, for both children. Meeting the needs of two little ones who need to be clothed, changed and fed can’t leave much room for sitting still.

Will my daughter and I be as close when those quality moments become rare occurrences and not common ones? Will the new baby and I ever get that extended quality time when there’s a toddler pulling at my T-shirt? Will my first born, who’ll be just 27 months old when the new baby comes, feel she’s been replaced? It’s my analytic head that keeps asking the difficult questions, but in my heart I know both kids will be fine. There’s no doubt that both of them will experience more love than some people can dream of. And my daughter, though a toddler, is independent, strong and loves babies. In fact, she’ll probably be glad to give up her couch time in order to play with her live baby doll. Mommy, on the other hand, will always have a hard time picturing her morning without it.