That dreaded second kid syndrome. You know the one. Where the more kids a family has, the less pictures or mementos are kept around. By the time the third or fourth or fifth kid enters the brood, there’s nary a picture to be found.
We won’t get to that crazy level, because this is the last time I will be pregnant.
But I’ve begun to notice that, despite all of my changing thoughts, little tidbits of things I ‘want to write down,’ I am choosing differently this time. I don’t know if it’s mindfulness, or exhaustion, but the zest for documenting has left, in part.
In the past few weeks I’ve thought about writing on:
-the incredible pain I’m feeling with an out of alignment pelvis (and yay, how good my first chiropractic appointment went in getting me to not walk like a 107 year old)
-the fear of turning my sweetness into an older sibling, and the pressure that goes with that responsibility. I know, both Boof and I were the eldest.
-the “holy shit we’re doing this again? for real? is it too late to back out now?” panic thoughts that overshadow my motherly imaginations of those sweet snuggle sessions and watching a new person grow into the person they already are. My mind is mostly obsessed with poop. And nursing. And poop. Diapers. Poop. Nursing. Poop. Sleep deprivation. Poop.
-the fear that, as exhausted as I am right now, with 24 teaching credits, a part-time job, 25 weeks pregnant, a 4 year old, etc. etc. etc., that I am already stretched too thin in the love department. I am most afraid of becoming the Cruel Mother, rather than staying the 95% empathetic mother. I worry that I will hold my almost 4 year old to a higher standard of behavior simply out of sheer exhaustion, leaving him bewildered at the change.
These are just snapshots of things that flutter through my head on my daily commute, while I’m in the shower, or getting up at 3am for my 5th potty break of the night. They are the same fears, only modified, that I had while pregnant with Potamus. And my higher self knows that all will be okay. But I also know, that I have enjoyed looking back. Seeing a fossil record of those fears, and while I’m zenfully in the moment of anxiety (is that an oxymoron?), I also know, that in 6 months, or 6 years, I won’t remember these little tidbits if I don’t write them down. Like the funny conversations between a mother and her child on the commute home. It quickly evaporates if not set in stone.
I don’t hope to capture all of the moments. But some. So the record isn’t Potamus and then nothing. But I’m also tired. And trying to form cohesive sentences only adds to my exhaustion.
So tell me, mothers of multiples…how do you handle the inequity of time spent worrying/writing/thinking/loving that first kid, and try to create balance with the other one, two, or five who come along behind?
Hey lady! Does that mean you’re having another boy?? Congrats. Truthfully it’s all hard and if you make it through the day it’s all good. Fact: your children will turn out great as long as you are a “good enough” parent 30% of the time. 30 fucking percent. That’s a fact. It gives me much comfort. Maybe it will also help you. Xo
YES ANOTHER BOY! Frankly, I’m stoked, as I get to be a Peter Pan mom. Silly as it sounds (and not like girls can’t tromp through the woods with me), but I’m really excited to have two little boy pals to get muddy with.
Thanks for the wisdom. It feels daunting. I think I’m holding Potamus to too high of a standard all of a sudden because he can verbalize, and I’m edgy because of the weather/pregnancy/8million excuses. I want to continue being the good mom that I know I can be.
It’ll be ok. It does get hard and then it gets different. Frankly I wish I had had your self awareness to realize I held my son to way too high a standard after girl was born. But it’s all good. It’s all good. I just keep saying it anyway, lol!!
UGH THAT IS SO POWERFUL “it gets hard and then it gets different.” YES. YES YES YES YES YES.
I needed that.
It’s hard now.
But it’s good now.
It’ll be hard then.
But it’ll be good then, too.
Thank you. ❤