What’s Different with Two

Well, everything.

The Earth shattering panic is much, much less.

Don’t get me wrong, you will still put your finger under your newborn’s nose to make sure they are breathing, but this time it is questionable whether or not your hands are Purell fresh.

You recognize just how capable you are.

I decided to “bounce back” as quickly as I could this go around which meant we left the hospital 12 hours after Madeleine was born and I did my first 3 mile walk when she was 20 days old. I take my “recovery time” while eating lunch/nursing/standing up in the kitchen. I realize now that I threw my own pity party for far too long with Charlotte, silently mourning the loss of my childless freedom. While I don’t drive a minivan or wear “Mom jeans”, I am fully committed to Mommyhood this go-around. 

Your love doesn’t split, it grows.

Everyone said I would get it when Madeleine was born and I hoped they’d be right, but I feared maybe they’d be wrong since no one could possibly understand just how much I love my first born. Turns out, I now have three loves of my life (and no I'm not pregnant again).

This too shall pass.

I am generally a glass half full type of person and I have tried my best to carry this mantra into motherhood, but when people would say “it’s just a phase” I wanted shove a BPA free pacifier in their mouth to get them to stop talking. But now I have living proof in my first born that babies eventually sleep through the night. So when I’m up anywhere from five to seven times a night, I know the newborn phase is fleeting.

The questions are different.

With the exception of my veterinarian who was terribly concerned with how our dogs were coping with our new human addition, everyone wants to know how Charlotte is handling the change. Instead of asking how you are sleeping, people (the ones you should keep around) hand you coffee and baked goods.

What would be considered an emergency of poo-pocalypse proportions with one, is now a Tuesday with two. It is easy to get overwhelmed, cry, and want to throw in the burp cloth, but instead I find  comedy in the chaos and bliss in the bedlam.

The 5 Best Parts of Going Past Your Due Date

1). I no longer feel guilty about asking for help. I've earned my seat in a crowded waiting room. The grocery store is my new favorite place because not only do they help me out to my car without me having to ask and they literally won’t take no for an answer.

2). This is the first time during your pregnancy where your doctor looks at you like you’ve accomplished something. Studies are now showing that the longer the baby cooks in there the better. My OB actually gave me a high five, which I then passed on to the tiny hand inside my belly.

3). Now when people ask me when I’m due I get to say “last Friday”. The look on men’s faces is always the same; typically they look like they just ate a spicy burrito and it is always paired with, “Should you be out?” Then they either run away quickly or offer to get me something.

4). It kinda feels like your birthday! Friends and family are constantly messaging their love and support. They are also confirming that I haven’t yet had the baby. This isn’t some sort of conspiracy; everyone will be promptly notified, I promise.

5). I am constantly amazed by what I can still do! While every mom envisions binge watching reality TV with her feet up for the last 2 weeks, in reality the only time I have to sit is in the bathroom. Sure I’ve slowed a little, but I can still do prenatal yoga, walk 3 miles a day and bend over to pick up after my toddler because sooner or later everything ends up on the floor.  

Attitude is everything at this point. Sure there are some moments I get frustrated especially when I get to listen to the TMI Mommy with the gruesome induction story. But on those days I just have Charlotte gently knock on my belly to see if her sister wants to come out and play and then I watch her laugh since apparently one kick means “not yet”.

Charlotte continues to run "quality control" on all her sister's baby items. 

The Waiting Game

Imagine you are going to have to saw your own arm off, except you don’t know exactly when it will happen, and people keep telling you everything will be OK, but to drink lots of water. This is where I’m at.

There’s something about the last two weeks of pregnancy that does something to you mentally. Physically it’s painful and uncomfortable, but if left alone in your own head you will most definitely start imagining 14 pound newborns and the teenage anesthesiologist claiming to be out of epidurals. Even dreams don’t provide any relief because that’s when you give birth to twin boys who can’t stop screaming, so when you finally wake up to search for them in your bed you see one confused husband and two sleepy dogs.

Besides some sort of magical Buddha that says, your baby will be born on this day at this time; all you really want is your OBGYN velcroed to you at all times, constantly repeating, “That’s normal”. I’ve set up my very own personal block to WebMD and unfortunately the one number we are allowed to dial at this point is Labor and Delivery. Ironically, this is the only time during the pregnancy when they throw caution to the wind and don't tell you to come in unless your baby is almost crowning.

It’s important to remind yourself that none of this is logical. There is an entirely formed human being camping out inside my watermelon sized uterus just waiting to call me, “Mom”. I’m the only person that can complete this task and thankfully I have my very own cheerleading squad of family and friends: we are having T-shirts made. It feels good that everyone has confidence in my abilities, and in the moments I’m not having contractions or I forget what’s about to happen, I too feel very capable. So here is the good news: this uncertainty, fear, and bowel-shaking panic sets the stage perfectly for what's to come in parenthood. 

What it's all for.