Ambiguous Adoration

When we were ready, my husband and I decided on having a second child. We were financially stable. We were comfortable in our parenting skills. Our firstborn was becoming increasingly independent and we knew in our hearts that our family was not complete. We were beyond elated when an EPT test authenticated a new baby was on the way, but as my belly began to swell and expand, I began to feel anxious and fearful about my capacity to love my new baby as deeply as I loved my eldest son.

There was no doubt in my mind that I would love this child. He was a part of me. We were excited to hold him. And new babies are always fun to snuggle with. But would he have the power to melt me with a single smile? Would he make my heart skip a beat when his tiny fingers wrapped around mine? Would he make each day brighter no matter how early it started?

My questions were all quickly answered the second my newborn son was placed into my arms for the first time. He eased into our lives seamlessly. But whatsmore, he enriched them beyond anything that we could have ever anticipated or imagined. His ability to make me feel so needed and loved with a simple gaze assuaged my insecurities. His sweet little face captivated me each moment it met mine. He has truly made each day since his arrival so much better, so much more gratifying, so much more complete.

Tonight I held my, now, 6-month-old baby in my arms, reflecting upon our day. It was mundane in nature. Some errands here, some housework there, punctuated by shared meals, naps, and hours of play. As he drifted off to sleep, his eyes closed tightly, his lips puckered in a peaceful grin, his body draped across my arms weighted heavily by relaxation and trust, I couldn’t help but revel in how beautiful that moment was, how beautiful my little boy was, how beautiful my life was because of he and his brother.

When the realization of having a second baby tested my confidence, I used to question myself constantly.  “How could I possibly love another child as much as the one that I already have?” Then tonight a more obvious realization hit me. “How could I not?”

Unsolicited Advice

When a woman announces that she is expecting a baby, she instantly becomes a magnetic force field attracting advice, anecdotes, and the occasional horror story from any other woman who has ever expected a baby at one point in time.  The problem with this is, although this wisdom is dispensed abundantly with the best intentions, most of it is probably unsolicited. After the birth of my first son, I was inundated with wave after wave of “When my daughter was teething…”, “When my son wouldn’t sleep through the night…”, “The best remedy for this is…”,”Buy this brand of bottles…”, “Don’t buy this brand of diapers…”,  “Feed him this way…”, “Hold him that way…“, “Breast is best!”, “I was formula-fed and I turned out ok…”, “Pacifiers were my saving grace…”, “Binkies are the work of the Devil!”, “Cosleeping is great!”, “Ferberize him!”, yack, yack, yack, yack, yack…

When I wasn’t going cross-eyed from sleep-deprivation coupled with the constant barrage of unsolicited advice, I learned to sort out what tidbits of guidance worked for me and what counsel could be cast aside. I got my parental groove and was unfazed by others’ recommendations until I was in the hospital after giving birth to my second son.

It was 12 hours after my delivery. I spent those 12 hours gazing smittenly at my new bundle, nursing him around the clock, and entertaining hordes of well-wishing visitors. It was time for me to eat breakfast when a 1^st-shift nurse whom I later dubbed “The Boob Nazi” came into my room. After manhandling me, she glanced over at my breakfast tray, and abrasively reprimanded me for ordering a cup of coffee. Jokingly I responded, “You mean to tell me that I am going to be in charge of two children under the age of 2 and I can’t have a cup of coffee?” The Boob Nazi was not amused. She proceeded to tell me that she made the sacrifice of not having coffee, medication, alcohol, etc. when she nursed all eight of her children and it was something all good mothers should do. (Based off of her response, it was also glaringly apparent to me that she had sacrificed FUN.)

The caffeine issued has remained present in the back of my mind. I cut my dependency on coffee drastically, but never quit it completely. And I don’t feel bad about that fact in the least. This is why: Here is how my night went the other day…

10pm- Settle into bed for the night.

10:20pm- Hubby wakes me up to ask where the dog leash is.

11pm- Finally find the dog leash stashed away in the drawer of our coffee table.  (NOT where it belongs, but apparently an excellent spot to hide a regularly used and necessary item according to our 3-year-old.)

11:15pm- Back in bed after letting the dog out.

12am- “Rescue” wailing 6-month-old in his sleep after he has rolled over onto his stomach and forgotten how to roll back.

1:20am- Make a sleepy sprint upstairs to wailing 3-year-old’s bedroom in order to soothe him after a nightmare.  He requests to snuggle.

2:30am- Stumble my way back to my bedroom after waking up and realizing I had fallen asleep in the kid’s bed.

3:40am- “Rescue” wailing 6-month-old once again from his belly- beached state in crib.

5:00am- “Rescue” wailing 6-month-old yet once more.

5:15am- Surrender to 6-month-old and take him into my bed.

5:45am- 3-year-old wakes up and is rearing to go. Awesome…

As I worked my way to the Keurig machine in a zombie-like state, I couldn’t help but think, “Screw you Boob Nazi.” And my first cup of joe that day was delish!

The moral of this story? The only piece of unsolicited advice that any mother should ever heed is to ignore unsolicited advice.  :)