Bringing Home #2

I really struggled with feelings of guilt when Ada was born. Guilt that I was abandoning Madelyn. Guilt that I wasn't as close to Ada. Guilt that I had to split my time, my attention, everything. It made me miss Madelyn as a baby and also want to fast forward to a time that the girls are going to love each other and be the best of friends. It is a strange feeling - wanting to either go back in time or move forward as fast as possible. It was a rough time but here we are 5 months later and we are getting to the good stuff! My girls absolutely adore one another! Madelyn will not go to bed without kissing Ada and Ada saves her biggest best smiles for her sister.

I just found this blog post and had to share. I've included a link to the original blogger (Kate from Perpetually Nesting) as well as provided the text.

What Nobody Says About Bringing Home #2

I have to write about this before it fades.

The days following Eze’s birth only held two emotions for me. Guilt and fear.

Love, of course, overshadowed all of it, but I’m not talking about that, right now.

With white knuckles and tears staining my face, I clung to a truth our pediatrician told me in passing.

He has six kids. Therefore I believe everything he says.

“When we had our second,” Dr. Abe told me, “My sister told me this, and now I’ll tell it to you.”

And here it is:

“The greatest gift you can ever give a child is a brother or sister.”

This has to be true, please let it be true, I remember praying, Because I totally feel like I’m breaking him right now.

Jeebs was so young (14 months old). Despite being given a baby doll to play with and getting hyped up about being a ‘big brother,’ there wasn’t much we could explain to him that he would understand. And then this little screeching alien showed up and took over.

Tantrums, night terrors, bewildered eyes, crying for Mommy, elongated nighttime routines, lack of appetite, huge, thick empathetic tears every time Eze would cry. It sure didn’t feel like a gift. It felt like a nightmare. Jeebs even looked a mess.

We all did.

Before Eze, Jeebs had a great life. He had his own schedule, his own perfect room, his own toys, his own clothes and both of our rapt attention at all times. I didn’t realize more than in passing that all that would change.

“Nobody told me how hard this is,” I’d sob, to anyone close to me who would listen. “Why didn’t anyone warn me?”

So I’m warning you now. Especially if you are an emotional faucet like me.

The first weeks, even the first month after bringing home baby number two, can be excruciatingly difficult.

Even if you have help. Especially if your first is still a baby. [But I can imagine that even if she is old enough to walk, talk, draw and talk about her feelings, it will still be tough.]

Because she’s had you all to herself for ages.

And you are bringing home a baby. One you’ve never met. One you haven’t yet bonded with. One who is a foreign ship in your known home waters.

And you might feel a whole lot of guilt about not knowing her the way you know Big baby, too. Just sayin’. It can be an all around painful guilt fest.

The good news is, it gets better. Everyone equilibrates, each of you finds a new normal. Big baby adjusts. Little baby bonds. Everyone thrives again, eventually. And Dr. Abe’s truth holds. Your family is NOT the exception to that rule. I know because I felt like we might be.

But when he’s born, and if you feel this way (and I hope you don’t, because it really isn’t fun), at least you’ll know that you aren’t the only one. At least you can know that I survived, Jeebs survived, Eze survived and you will too.

The greatest gift you can ever give your child is a brother or sister. It is. I promise. My kids are both proof of that, now. It won’t feel that way immediately, but it’s one of those long-run things that hurts at first. You don’t need to be anxious about it. Because now you are prepared.

I won’t leave you with a downer. I’ll post tomorrow with some constructive help on how to ease the transition. Like I said, you aren’t alone.

Loving Two

I found this blurb on the internet just after Ada was born. At the time, I was struggling with some pretty big feelings of guilt over Madelyn having to share my attention. This poem gave me hope at the time and now I can read it and realize how true it is. I already can't imagine not having both of my girls and watching them together makes emotion bubble up inside of me. I feel like I gave each of them a truly awesome gift.

 

Loving Two

As I walk along holding your 2-year-old hand, basking in the glow of our magical relationship. Suddenly I feel a kick from within, as if to remind me that our time alone is limited. And I wonder: How could I ever love another child as I love you?

 

Then she is born, and I watch you. I watch the pain you feel at having to share me as you've never shared me before. I hear you telling me in your own way, "Please love only me" And I hear myself telling you in mine,"I can't," knowing, in fact, that I never can again. You cry. I cry with you. I almost see our new baby as an intruder on the precious relationship we once shared. A relationship we can never quite have again.

 

But then, barely noticing, I find myself attached to that new being, and feeling almost guilty. I'm afraid to let you see me enjoying her -- as though I am betraying you.

But then I notice your resentment change, first to curiosity, then to protectiveness, finally to genuine affection. More days pass, and we are settling into a new routine. The memory of days with just the two of us is fading fast. But something else is replacing those wonderful times we shared, just we two.

 

There are new times -- only now, we are three. I watch the love between you grow, the way you look at each other, touch each other. I watch how she adores you -- as I have for so long. I see how excited you are by each of her new accomplishments.

 

And I begin to realize that I haven't taken something from you, I've given something to you. I notice that I am no longer afraid to share my love openly with both of you. I find that my love for each of you is as different as you are, but equally strong.

And my question is finally answered, to my amazement. Yes, I can love another child as much as I love you -- only differently.

 

And although I realize that you may have to share my time, I now know you'll never share my love. There's enough of that for both of you -- you each have your own supply. I love you -- both. And I thank you both for blessing my life.

 

 

Being a Mom

One of the biggest lessons I've learned in my short time being a mom is tolerance. Being a mom is a tough job and the last thing any parent needs is another mother forcing her opinions and judgements on your family. I believe the best thing we can do for other mothers is simply be supportive. You aren't the one walking the floors with her colicky baby until 3am, dealing with the frustrations of potty training her independent toddler, sitting at her dining room table doing homework with her ten year old or disciplining her free spirited teenager. Point being, you have no idea what goes on in her family 99% of the time, so who are you to judge the choices she makes in raising her children?

My close knit group of friends has drastically different parenting styles which leads to very different decisions we each make for our children thus far. Some vaccinate, some don't, some do alternative schedules. Some breastfeed, some don't and some extend breastfeeding well into toddlerhood. Some cosleep, some have their baby in their crib from day one. Some stay at home and some work. I could fill pages with all the differences but in spite of all these differences in parenting choices, there is one major similiarity in all of our children. They are happy, well adjusted and loved. What I appreciate in these women is no one condemns anyone else's decisions. Each mother will listen to other points of view with respect, share her opinion and ultimately make the call on what works for her child. No one's feelings are hurt and everyone walks away with a little more understanding.

I firmly believe every mother makes the best decisions she can for her children and although it may not be the same decisions you would make, that doesn't make her wrong. As mothers, we need to create a community of support to build each other up, not tear each other down. We are already working hard enough raising beautiful, healthy and happy children - why should we have to add more to our plate by having to defend our choices?

I will now step down from my soapbox and reward you with some cuteness for listening to my rant: