Last week I talked about how my older son changed me by simply entering our lives. I learned to love myself. That learning process wasn’t without fault, of course, and was furthered by the birth of our second son, LittleBrother.
I will admit: I had no idea how hard it was going to be going from parenting one child to parenting two children. I figured that I already knew how to do the majority of things and that it would be a piece of cake. I figured that since I had already endured sleep deprivation with BigBrother, it wouldn’t be an issue in those first few months after LittleBrother was born.
I, my readers, was an optimistic moron.
It was a thousand times harder than I ever imagined. It’s funny, really. Just like our brains somehow magically forget the pain of childbirth, thus allowing us to get pregnant and birth another/other child(ren), our brains somehow magically forget the bad stuff about parenting a newborn, thus allowing us to start parenting that next child we have just birthed. I had forgotten, completely, that I loathed sleep deprivation. Granted, I had tricks up my sleeve and knew to do things earlier on with LittleBrother than I did with his older counterpart. But guess what: some things that worked for BigBrother? Didn’t work with LittleBrother. Who knew! (I’ll tell you: parents of two or more who neglected to share this info. Trickery. Parenthood trickery!)
I tried to find my rhythm. I tried to get into a groove. To find some semblance of normalcy. But then BigBrother started to potty train. And LittleBrother had his tongue issue. And then I was diagnosed with postpartum depression. It was not an easy time in my life. I was overtired and out of hope that things would ever get easier.
I swear this post gets back to love. Please keep reading.
But I kept on. Through it all, I knew that I loved this new little boy with all of my being. I was blessed in the fact that while he still needed to do things like eat in the middle of the night, he was a remarkably easy baby. (Both boys were and are good sleepers so I know how lucky I am in that regard.) LittleBrother’s smile, so precious, would bring tears to my eyes. Tears of joy. And tears of guilt at times that I wasn’t getting my act together as quickly as I did after BigBrother was born. I felt like I was cheating him. But he never seemed to notice. He, maybe more so than his brother, is a Mama’s Boy despite the hardship of those first months. Apparently I didn’t fail him completely.
And now, four days away from his first birthday, I have found that semblance of normal. It is so vastly different than our previous definition of normal in this household. I have to wake up earlier to get my work done but I don’t always get to go to sleep earlier. (I do try.) I am more quick to admit defeat and ask for help from any number of people. I have also pushed myself to pursue things of interest to me in the past few months including joining a local chorale and escaping one day a week for coffee with friends. As of my last appointment with my therapist, I can say that I have beaten, again, the ugly monster that is PPD. I am stronger for it, I believe.
I’m rambling. Birthdays make me ramble.
This first year has been a blur. And I just shared a bunch of not-so-awesome stuff with you that many parents of two or more don’t always share. But I’ll be honest: they’re not doing it to trick you. They’re doing it because by the time that first birthday rolls around, those not-so-awesome moments have already begun to fade. They have now been replaced with this overwhelming love for my family. I am so very, very blessed to be the mother of these two boys and the wife of this strong man. I am so very, very blessed to have beaten PPD not once now but twice. I am so very, very blessed to have made it through this year with happy memories in tact. I am so very, very blessed that LittleBrother joined our family and has, like his brother, shaped me into who I am at this very moment.
I am not a Perfect Mommy. Instead, I am a Mommy with fault, a real Mommy. I am a Mother who has come through a dark tunnel and is ready to keep on traveling. I am a Mother forever changed, and forever blessed, by love.
Happy Love Thursday. (Birthday week always makes me reflective, no? Look for a nostalgia laden post about how LittleBrother has changed in this past year on his birthday this coming Monday.)
