Then and Now

Before Bub was born, my mom cautioned me not to have any preconceived notions. I think she was referring to labor and delivery, but this is good advice about bringing home babies overall. It's never like you think. I totally didn't succeed at entering into motherhood with a blank slate. I had expectations and my first born shot them all out of the water. I knew nothing.

You would think that would teach me something. You would be wrong.

Meghan's post today totally hit home in that I've been comparing Bubette to her brother from the beginning.

Many, many things are similar. My pregnancies? Nearly identical with the exception that I was much more nauseous the second time around.

Deliveries? Both babies were scheduled inductions, on a Thursday, by my own doctor. Bub was a week late, Bubette six days. Both birth stories are very similar in their specifics, although Bubette's labor and birth was much, MUCH easier and more relaxed. (I credit the world's most awesome nurse who kept my Pitocin dose at the absolute minimum.)

Their birthdays are four days apart, she weighed just three ounces more than he did.

They're similar babies in temperament too. Both are/were very easy newborns. Bub slept longer, earlier, while she's wildly inconsistent with her sleep. She's easier to get to sleep, and to date I have not had one single night where she stayed awake beyond her middle of the night feedings.

Some things are markedly different. Having Bub made me a mother. My life changed, drastically, in a matter of moments. It was a strong shock to my system how many things were different now that this new, tiny person lived in our house. I will admit freely that it took some serious getting used to. I had a heavy case of the baby blues and my anxiety levels rocketed off the charts. I would drag myself out of bed in the middle of the night, swearing that I would never have another child because it just wasn't physically possible to parent TWO of them.

Then I had my second baby. Sure, I cried. And then, all of a sudden, the tears were gone. It was such a non-event I almost didn't even notice it was happening. I don't love the interrupted sleep, but I don't feel like I've been hit by a truck every morning either. Before I was desperate for some alone time, now I'm thrilled when I can get out of the house with just one child.

Even though having two children is physically eighteen times harder than having one, I'm tempted to say that it's easier mentally, emotionally. I'll revisit that statement when they can both talk, and therefore both accost me with the why all the livelong day, I'm sure.

Until then, my now? Is awesome.