As we make our way home from a family vacation in New Jersey, I glance up at my husband in the front seat drinking his third cup of coffee. Totally normal. In the second row, my daughter has her Minnie Mouse high-tops pressed against the front seat as she grins while watching Daniel Tiger. Road-trip normal.
Just a few months ago, this was us; this was our normal. But now, sitting to my right way in the back, is a sleeping baby boy. A new kind of normal. And who knew that in only ten weeks of being a parent of two I’d learn more useful and beneficial lessons than in the last 2.5 years of being a mother of one?
Fed really IS best.
With my first, I planned to breastfeed. I mean, isn’t that what you “have” to do as a mother today? It’d just be “awful” of me to “deprive” my kids of the “nutrition,” “antibodies,” “bonding,” etc. I didn’t want to be “selfish,” so, without really knowing anything about it, I, with the nurse’s help, twisted, squeezed, and pushed my left nipple into my daughter’s mouth, hoping for a “good latch.” When she started to suck, I was supposed to feel happy; instead, I remember thinking I could not possibly feel any more disconnected from my newborn at that point. But I continued the same process at home for what seemed like all day/every day because it was the “right thing to do.”
At her one-week checkup, she had lost some weight. But at the following week’s checkup, she lost a great deal more. She showed all the signs of a hungry baby- NO sleep, a TON of crying, etc.- but the “F-word” (well, that F-word) didn’t even come to mind as an option. I couldn’t possibly be “one of those moms.” When the doctor suggested supplementing due to my “extremely low supply,” I felt like I failed. People talk about the public breastfeeding issue, but we don’t often hear about the moms, like me, who are too afraid to formula-feed in public. I honestly think I was more excited about her first birthday for the switch to cow’s milk than the fact that she turned one just so I could be like other moms again.
Despite the fact that everyone told me “things are different with each baby,” I just couldn’t go through it all again with my second. I was self-conscious about the decision in the beginning; however, when he only lost an ounce at his first appointment and gained POUNDS by his next, I knew I made the right decision for him and ultimately for me, which truly is all that matters.
Accepting help is NOT admitting defeat.
Although being tired was a huge understatement, I did not feel like I could ask for help when my daughter was born. I wasn’t back to work yet and was able to occasionally nap. I could also always get chores done while she slept or kept herself busy on the bouncer.
But when my son came, it was a whole different story. I was, although quite unenthusiastically, able to accept the fact that a nap was not in my near future but had a very difficult time feeding my family carryout three times a week, continuously stepping over five baskets of clean laundry, and constantly struggling to pay attention to my daughter’s stories while trying to deal with a tiny penis that never failed at squirting him, me, and even the walls at EVERY. SINGLE. DIAPER CHANGE. I missed playing with my firstborn so much, but even more, I longed for the ease of having just one again.
It’s a lot to receive free help with two, but our family was honestly thrilled when I asked them to take turns hanging out with my oldest for a couple hours each week. We’re beyond lucky to have them close by, but if we didn’t, I definitely would have had to find outside help this time around. Knowing she was being taken care of better than I was able to right then made me happy, and having the ability to cross some items off my to-do list, and take even the briefest of siestas, honestly made me a better mom for both kiddos.
Special time is CRUCIAL.
For the last 2.5 years, I have had what seems like unlimited special time with my oldest. From errands to outings to Mom-Tot classes, life has been all about her. But, I must admit that special time with the hubby, something I really love, and special time alone, something I personally really need, has been pushed on the wayside.
Once my second made his debut, however, I have acknowledged the importance of not only maintaining the special time with my daughter but really making it a priority to get one-on-one time with the baby, hang with the hubby, and also find a way to get some alone time. Once a week, I drop the baby off to either my parents’ or in-laws’ house and take my daughter out for a bit. We both look forward to our “dates” where we keep the technology hidden and have meaningful time together like we’ve always been used to.
Although only 2.5, we decided to put my daughter in school a couple mornings a week, so I’d have some time to spend with just the baby. I can’t tell you how amazing it is to sip coffee, listen to the news, and snuggle an infant without needing to take the firstborn to potty or play with Barbies; I also feel guilt-free since school has benefitted her and her shy personality so much.
Now that my husband is on bath duty with one while I’m feeding the other, or I have both while he eats and then we make “The Switch,” we honestly only see each other in passing, and until our son is older and sleeping through the night, we even sleep in separate rooms. When we just had one, we didn’t get a babysitter until she was 9-months-old, but this time around, I made childcare a priority almost immediately after the birth of my son. It’s so easy to fall into the habit of being OK with not spending time together, and this was not the path either of us wished to take.
No, we certainly do not have the money, and I definitely don’t have the time right now, to have regular massages or a personal trainer. When I say “me-time,” I really mean a few minutes to shower (and hey, maybe even shave!) without the toddler and/or listening for a cry in the baby monitor, some time at a coffee shop to get my blogs in before deadline, or a quiet stroll around Target without worrying about the baby’s feed schedule. Every day I have to remember the importance of this; otherwise, I will find excuses, which only hurts my entire family in the end.
What lessons did you learn after having a second? What about number three? Four? Five?
