Second Time Around the Son…

I’ve had so many people ask “How are you doing?”. It’s a great thing because as a new mom {even the second… and I’m guessing third… or even the eighth time around} you kinda forget there’s a you. So preoccupied with the every whim of your infant and your so-used-to-having-you-all-to-themselves toddler, the idea of how you are is a foreign concept. I am currently a walking milkbar and my milkshake brings my boy to the yard. With the current schedule for Jonah, I spend about 8ish hours of the day with him snuggled to my set or mowing down milk from a bottle. The times that we’re not focused on feasting, Barrett gets the attention from mama Ash. And what time is left over, is spent canoodling with my leading man. So, how am I doing?

Honestly… pretty darn amazing. I mean, yes, I am a zombie of sorts. But a pretty stinkin’ happy zombie. And I guess if you have to be a zombie, a happy one is best. After we had Barrett, I was exhausted. And not like now exhausted. Like … cry in the middle of a sentence, call my husband in tears, dehydrated, crusty breastmilk in hair, rarely showered or shaven and never wanting to canoodle E X H A U S T E D. I blame part of it on being a first timer. I blame part of it on the feeding demands of a premature peanut, and of course, a piece of the pie also goes out to Barrett’s belly business. It just wasn’t ideal. And while life isn’t ideal, it was hard. Not just tiring. Not just time consuming. But truly hard. And I was a hot mess.

Amidst the screams and spitting, I could not find myself. The, for all intents and purposes, happy-go-lucky rarely feathers ruffled me was going nutty bananas and I felt a loss of self. I’m sure that’s awful. I’m sure that, to say {or rather admit. out loud} that in gaining the precious gift of a baby, I lost myself, sounds heinous. But don’t call me Casey Anthony just yet, let me state my case.

Before kiddos, you can {and do} tend to your every whim. My schedule pre-Barrett would look like this:

get up at the last possible minute I can to get showered in time for work. Leisurely put my face on and try on 8 different outfits prior to grabbing a Diet Coke {breakfast of Champions} on my way out the door. Listen to my music or my morning show. Spend the day at work. Head to gym for whatever amount of time I decide. Stop at store en route home to pick up groceries for dinner. Eat dinner at 8:30 pm. Watch tv. Head to bed. And the weekends… don’t even get me started.

Now, life looks a little different:

wake to alarm reminding me it’s time to pump. Wash. Refrigerate. Pick Jonah up from bassinet and let him sleep on me for a bit to get some extra shut-eye {shhh. don’t tell}. Wake up. Feed Jonah. Adam gets B and gets his breakfast. Pump again. Hang out with Barrett. Clean. Laundry. Dishes. Assess fridge situation. Make grocery list. Play. Feed. Pump. Wash bottles, pump parts, hands. Diaper changes for both boys. Change their clothes {if we’re lucky:)}. Snack. Feed. Pump. Lunch. Play. Nap for B. Playtime for Jonah. Grab a bite of {dairy-free} lunch. Chores. Feed. Pump. Barrett wake. Killing time before daddy arrives home. Feed. Pump. Pray. Start dinner. Finish dinner. Clean up dinner {if we’re lucky:)}. Baths. Bedtime for B. Feed. Pump. Maybe squeeze in TV. Tell my husband how happy he makes me. Bedtime for adults. Wake. Feed. Pump. Sleep. Wake. Feed. Pump. Sleep. Start over.

So. There is no hiding the fact that life. has. changed {again}. But. The change that I’ve experienced as a second-time mama, is dramatically less life-altering than the first. As noted, yes … We’re a bit tired around these parts. But we knew we would be. We’ve been here before. We knew what we were in for. And as far as showering, shaving, eating, and me-time, while it’s minimal, it’s just not that big of a deal. Because I know it’s not forever. I know that the bread dough belly will, likely, at some point whip back into shape; that the cellulite city on the back of my legs does not need to get taken care of today; the dishes will get cleaned; the house will survive. And I know that I could either spend time feeling sorry for my tired, uncleansed state or I can soak up every second of a sleepy, squishy newborn and his oh-so-charming bro. The life changing that happened to me on our second trip {just three weeks in} around the son, seems to be so much more clarifying and calming. I. am. happy. I know now, after having Barrett’s first year… second year… half year… fly by in the blink of an eye, that these days will someday be our “those were the days”.

And I don’t feel bad about it. For a bit I did. I felt guilty. As if I was saying Barrett made me fall apart and Jonah put me back together. But first of all, I was put together far before birthing little J and of course, it’s just different when you do something again. Life is like that. You can do the same thing you’ve done before but have a completely different view of it because you are willing to take it on this time. Because you have an agreement with the situation. You understand what you’re signing up for. And thanks to Barrett, we so wanted for Jonah. We knew just how lovely it would be.

I haven’t even really begun to think about what comes next. I know that I don’t have to decide this time if I will or won’t stay home… to feel as if I have to either choose myself or my child.I know that I can choose if I want to work and that I don’t need to worry about anyone else’s opinions. I know that I don’t have to completely eliminate time for me… and time for us. I know that I can put Jonah down and squeeze in Barrett time, a shower, or a sandwich. I know that the frenetic feeding that’s happening will be short-lived and but a dream in mere months {and honestly, I won’t miss that dream}. I know that I can do this because it’s not all on me. Adam, Barrett and I have made Jonah a part of us together. And it feels right.

All in all, it just feels so much more clear this time that this is how my life is supposed to go. That I am no longer playing dress-up in a mother’s world. I am creating the world for my children.

There is no possible way I could have had such clarity last time. We had to do it on our own… survive it… feel like we could rock it … before we could know how good it could be. And for all of you who had that clarity the first time around, lucky yous {I secretly hate you. Okay. Not really. But kind of}.

So far, in our second time around the son, I have few concerns, I have less fears, and I far fewer tears. Barrett is beginning to show his former self. Jonah is gaining speed {5 lbs 2 oz at last check!!}. And we’re living our {somewhat sleepless} lives as parents to two. And while there will surely be good and bad days ahead {and frustrating moments. and moments where I want to stick a fork straight into my ear}, that would be reality with or without kids.

Rob Lowe recently said “First they’re ours. Then they’re the world’s”. This hangs in between the boys’ bedrooms as a constant reminder that this, too, is fleeting. This, too, is impermanent. That we must soak up the moments… the good… the trying… the crazy… and love them for what they are. And know that in times when we are wanting more… we currently have it all.

And as for me, as I write this … unshowered, pj-clad and house a-clutter … I’m right where I need to be.