And just like that… we’re a family of four.
My daughter BB was born in late July. She turned 11 weeks old yesterday, so we’re almost through the fourth trimester. Doing this for the second time in less than 2 years has been an interesting experience because I both did and did not know what to expect.
I knew what to expect because I’ve already been through the newborn phase once, so there was less existential shock to my system. My body has already adjusted to the sleep deprivation so it was a little more tolerable, except for the fact that BB has a much different disposition than RJ. She is what some would call a velcro baby, but I prefer to call her my barnacle baby because it matches her initials. She hates being put down and will scream until she’s being held by someone (ideally the milk maker), which rattles your nerves enough as it is, but even more when you have a toddler one room over who just started sleeping through the night and you’re desperate not to wake him, lest you have 2 children you’re trying to coax back to sleep.
This time around really drove home for me that I am not the biggest fan of the newborn phase. Out of the 21 months I’ve been a parent, the newborn phase was the worst. I didn’t enjoy it the first time around and haven’t enjoyed it as much this time around either, but having gone through it once has helped keep me grounded in remembering that this is all temporary and goes so fast. I don’t want to wish time with my children away, but it’s hard to be present and enjoy the season you’re in when you’re exhausted, your titties are sore, and you no longer have the option to “sleep when the baby sleeps” because that only applies when you have one child (and even then it’s terrible advice).
Despite the challenges of this season, there have been undeniable benefits.
I’m way less anxious this time around because I’ve already been through it once, so the rinse and repeat of keeping a newborn alive is not as much of an existential disaster. I’m actually more confident and better at it than I was the first time, even though it’s technically more difficult juggling two kids.
Overall, I feel more “myself” now than I have since my first pregnancy. Maybe it’s because I know we’re done having kids, so this is what our complete family looks like and I no longer feel like I’m going to have to prepare to “start over” again with pregnancy, which I do not enjoy. That is all behind me, so there’s a level of fulfillment I have that brings me some form of peace I haven’t had in years. It’s a wonderful feeling to know that our family is complete.
Speaking of not enjoying pregnancy, the last trimester with BB was absolute hell on me physically and mentally. This girl kicked my ass. I was physically in more pain than I’ve ever experienced, thanks to her giant body repositioning all my organs and sitting directly on my sciatic nerve. Despite this, I was still the primary caregiver to a toddler who was 10 months at the beginning of pregnancy and 18 months when she was born. These are high-energy and significant developmental months, and I was desperate to power through the exhaustion and pain to do enriching activities with him and enjoy our last stretch of time with him as our only child.
It’s also helpful that RJ has adjusted well to having this new creature in the house. He loves to greet her in the morning and tell her night night, so there’s been no shortage of adorable moments. However, he’s also realized that he can push boundaries when I’m nursing her because it will take me longer to get him off the back of the recliner he just climbed up to help him yank on the window blinds, so we’re working on that.
I read somewhere (I think on Reddit) that having your first kid is an existential nightmare and having your second kid is a logistical nightmare. That is one of the most accurate descriptions I’ve seen for becoming a parent of two kids under two. Now you have to get two small kids in the car and buckled into their seats. You have twice as many diapers in the pail and two sizes to buy. You have to get the baby strapped into her carrier to get her to stop screaming so you can put the toddler’s shoes on, which he will immediately rip off if you’re not ready to go directly into the garage and get him in his stroller to go to the park. If you’re at the park and the toddler decides to load up his diaper at the top of the play structure, you have to bring him down and wrestle him out of the poopy diaper without him kicking the baby strapped to you, who will hopefully stay asleep and not want to eat after this situation that’s left you panting and sweating. If you want to go into the basement and get the laundry going, you have to make sure the baby is content in her bouncer on the other side of the gate from the toddler in the living room, who will hopefully stay chill while watching Bluey instead of finding something new to climb and destroy.
The unexpected silver lining from the pregnancy exhaustion and pain is that it had me so eager to feel “normal” that I now look forward to getting things done that I don’t generally enjoy doing. While pregnant with BB, it took every ounce of strength I had to go downstairs and sort the laundry or go outside and tend to the garden. I could barely walk up and down the stairs without my stomach tightening so intensely that I had to sit down and take a break, even though I also needed to go upstairs and pack Etsy orders that were due. Getting more than one bare minimum chore done was like an olympic event for me, so now that I’m no longer feeling that way, I can barely contain all this energy. Even with BB keeping me up half the night, I have so much energy during the day. I can feed both kids and myself, clean up the kitchen, empty the dishwasher, and get a load of laundry going before 9am and still have the energy to walk to the park and catch up on work while RJ naps. What is this? It’s the best feeling, and it’s made me realize how lucky I am to live this life. This is exactly what we wanted and it’s all here. Well, a nap would be nice, too. But life is good.
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