The Final Countdown

Are you so ready to have the baby?

People would ask me this all the time when I was pregnant with Charlotte and I’d get giddy and squealy and say, “Yes, so ready.” I wish I could go back in time and lovingly slap myself in the face. No, there is no way to be ready and there is no way to be prepared for having a baby. My life was suddenly filled with so much stuff, all centered around a little person weighing less than 8 pounds. Stuff comprising of tons of necessary and unnecessary baby gear, not to mention the emotional stuff like tears, frustration, joy and a ridiculous amount of love.

Fast forward to what feels like a mere week later and the third trimester of my second pregnancy. Now when people ask me, I tell them the ugly truth. No, I’m absolutely not ready because I know what’s coming. I am physically exhausted from wrangling a toddler while carrying a bowling ball around in my stomach, that kicks me with the force of a hundred gerbils in 100 degree heat. But this tired is a spa weekend in wine country compared to what's ahead.

Do I long to hold my baby girl in my arms? Absolutely, more than anything. But I’d love to venture back to the land of ignorance just for this final countdown. This pregnancy is completely different because my first little ball of joy doesn’t allow me any time to think. But suddenly my brain has flipped a switch and I can’t ignore what feels like a ticking time bomb just waiting to shower me with two times the STUFF, which coincidentally feels like two times more than I am equipped to handle.

What do you mean I will no longer be the center of the universe?

On the plus side my heart is about to double in size. The one thing I consistently hear about having two under two is that nothing beats the feeling of watching your children fall in love with each other. So while I’m not ready for labor, sleep deprivation, or nursing, I can hardly wait for all the good stuff. 

Myths from the Delivery Room

Birth is nothing like they show in the movies or on TV. Yes, there is sweating, but other than that what they show looks more like a confusing gynecology appointment where they hand you a 6 month old baby lightly dipped in jelly only to whisk them away so you have a few moments to make-out with your husband (no tongue though, let's keep it classy). 

First of all there is no sheet covering your lady parts. By this time the orderly who delivered your meals has not only seen you on the toilet, but has probably caught a pretty good peep show of your butt. Remember those “breathable” robes they have you wear during your monthly trips to the gyno? That’s your attire for the next several days. They only open in the back and going commando is a requirement. I remember being confused because I had packed special granny panties just for the occasion, but apparently they were blocking the only exit route and it was most definitely an emergency, not a drill. This is your orientation into nudity 24/7, so if you were modest before you are quickly cured and now adequately prepared for the boobie festival in your future, if you choose to breastfeed.

You do not swear at your partner (but your language is not child friendly). There is no directed blame, just a general panic because this cannot possibly be right. No human is meant to survive this level of pain. Enter the anesthesiologist, aka your new BFF, and from that moment on you are no longer in a scene of Alien Vs. Predator. Hollywood, evidently, has outlawed epidurals however because giant needles are not quite as sexy as what is pictured below. 

No one cares if you poop (and my apologies but you will probably throw up). This and any mention of the placenta has to be shielded from the silver screen because birth should only be beautiful. Whenever I see this as a list of fears from expecting mothers I always laugh out loud. Your world is about to be so incredibly rocked by the shocking amount of bodily functions, some are yours but most come from your child, that a little bit of poop never killed anyone. In fact, if it gets the baby out faster somehow you will wish you had Indian Food as your last supper.

Now that you have read this and scheduled your elective C-Section, I will tell you the good news. Birthing my daughter is the most powerful, incredible thing that I’ve ever done. Post-delivery, you are a superhero because you’ve created life and it’s here in your arms. That feeling stays with you forever and your decision to have more children has nothing to do with what did or did not occur in the delivery room.  So first-time moms, please turn off Knocked Up, any birthing episode from Friends and the YouTube clip of “Woman Gives Birth to a 10 Pound Baby in the Car”, you are about to write your own delivery room drama and it’s got your baby’s name written all over it. 

Pregnant with a Toddler...The Truth

Meet my new friend Sarah and enjoy her tales of surviving two under two. Check her out at Dancing in the Rain: Musings on Motherhood:

https://dancingintherainmusingsonmotherhood.wordpress.com

My husband was away on a business trip when I found out. After a week of being sick I was still feeling nauseous every night to the point all I wanted to do was lay down and sleep. My mother in-law had called to check in on J and I that afternoon, and jokingly suggested I take a pregnancy test when I answered her inquiry about how I was feeling. Although I was pretty sure the outcome would be negative, I took one any way. Four tests later, I stood staring at them lined up on the back of the toilet as my ten month old unwound the toilet paper. I had too many thoughts going around in my head to even attempt to correct him- according to these tests I was most definitely pregnant.

Being pregnant with a toddler under two can rattle even the calmest of mothers (and I'm definitely not even close to the calmest of mothers). How can you possibly juggle another human? You were just getting a handle on having one little person to care for and now you're going to have TWO? Of course my husband and I were shocked and overjoyed to be welcoming another baby to our family, but we were also scared to death! We oscillated between telling ourselves this time would be so much easier and wondering what had made us think we were qualified to raise tiny humans.

Now that we are six months in to being parents of two under two, I'm happy to report that our fears were largely unfounded. Everyone has survived (mostly) unscathed. Neither the husband nor I have completely lost our sanity and both boys are clean, fed, and dressed routinely- daily even! Quite impressive if I do say so myself. If you find yourself in this same situation, allow me to share some pearls of wisdom with you that I've gathered over the last six months. 

One of the biggest worries I had was how I was going to manage to get two kids out of the house. I've never been a punctual person, although I do try (most of the time), and I struggled to get anywhere even remotely close to on time after my first was born. Let me share a secret with you: you will find a way to maintain your status quo. I find that with two kids I am no later than I was when I had one. In fact, if anything, I've become more punctual. The less time you have to waste (and you won't have any to waste at all) the better you will become at managing it. 

You'll also probably learn to let a few more things slide. With my first kiddo, there is absolutely no way I would have left the house with him in his pajamas. With two kids, I'm much more apt to let my youngest leave the house in not only pajamas, but anything that's clean and fits. 

The other big fear that I had throughout my second pregnancy was that I would miss the one-on-one time I had with my oldest son. I was keenly aware both that this would be the last time we would spend our days just the two of us. I loved spending our days together; running errands, playing, reading, just enjoying his company and getting to know this wonderful little human. I worried that with a new baby, who would need a lot of my time and attention, I wouldn't have time for these special moments and that our bond wouldn't be as strong. I was worried that he would resent his new brother, that he would miss my undivided attention and that he was too young to understand all of the changes in his life. 

I'm not going to say that none of those things happened. He did, and sometimes still does, have a hard time sharing my love and attention with his younger brother. What I didn't understand though was that he would be in complete awe of his younger brother. That he would love him and work to make him laugh when he's crying, to lavish him with hugs and kisses, try to sneak him pieces of his crackers and sips of his juice. I couldn't have foreseen how beautiful the love between my sons would be and how it would warm my heart. 

I also couldn't fully appreciate how I would come to treasure the opportunities to spend one on one time with one of my boys. I can't give them each my undivided attention every waking hour, but those moments where I get to be alone with each of them are that much more special. A friend of mine summed it up perfectly when she said the day she became a mother, her heart grew three sizes. That was true when my first son was born, but my heart grew exponentially when I became a mom the second time.