As I waited for the Pitocin to kick in, countless thoughts raced through my head: how long will labor be this time around? How badly will it hurt? Will he be a good sleeper? Am I a horrible mom for not even attempting nursing this time around?
What didn’t even COME to mind was the fact that in less than two days, I would not be me, you would not be you, and– most importantly– we would no longer be just us.
To my firstborn,
I see you.
Acknowledging how inseparable you and I have been these last 2.5 years, my goal upon leaving the hospital was to focus my attention on you since, as long as his basic needs are met, your brother can’t recognize the difference yet.
But it has been HARD. As much as I wanted everything to be “normal” for you when we came home, life, as I know you’ve noticed, could not be anymore different.
“Mama, please take me potty!” “I can’t lift you right now, Bud.”
“Mama, take shower with me!” “I wish, but I still have owies from the hospital, Baby Girl.”
“Mama, hold me.” “I can’t hold you and the baby at the same time, Sweetie.”
You say nothing, but your little face says it all. Especially on the days where I only get a couple hours of sleep the night before, and, like you’ve witnessed, I become a monster.
“Can you please stop dropping your Cheddar Bunnies all over the place?” “I’m sorry, Mama. Want you happy again, OK?”
“Why do you ALWAYS need to use the bathroom when I’m feeding your brother?” “I have to go pee-pee and not want accident on floor. Not want you have to clean it up, Mama.”
“Honey, I don’t have time to read you a book right now. Your brother is crying, and I need to get dinner going.” “But Mama, just one book in big-girl bed with me. Please, Mama? Don’t you love special book time with me, Mama?”
Man, I miss you.
As much as I’d love to squeeze and snuggle you when you come into our room at 11 p.m., 3 a.m., and 5:30 a.m., I sleep better knowing you’re sleeping.
Even though it pains me to watch you gravitate more toward Daddy lately, I feel content knowing that he is able to give you the love and attention you deserve right now.
Regardless of the fact that we currently get only a couple hours alone each week, those 120 minutes full of chats, hugs, and giggles recharge me for whatever the week ahead brings.
I am SO incredibly proud of you.
Between big-girl beds, big-girl panties, and big-girl school, I don’t know how you’ve managed to also become such an amazing big sister.
Ever since we have become a family of four, you have done everything you possibly can to help your brother and me. Please know, that no matter how overwhelmed I am and how unresponsive I may presently seem, your shoes on, toys put away, and hands washed without me asking has not gone unnoticed.
I will never, EVER stop loving you.
Hoping to return to a similar version of the “old-me” soon,
Mama
I don’t have kids, but this was a nice read. Very touching.