I remember when I was pregnant with my second. I was so excited, yet so scared.
I was scared that I wouldn’t be able to take care of two little ones.
I was scared that I wouldn’t have the energy I needed.
I was scared that I wouldn’t love my second as much as my first.
I was scared that I would love my second more than my first.
I was full of overwhelming emotions that I don’t think were all due to hormones. I was afraid of so many things, and I was afraid to even be too excited because didn’t that mean that I didn’t love my son as much? Since I was so excited for another one to come?
I felt like a terrible mom. Not only was I “replacing” my son with a little girl, but before she even came I didn’t have the energy or ability to play with my son like I wanted to when it was just him and me.
Right before my daughter was born too, I started to become resentful of her before she was even there. She was ruining the bond I had with my son.
Things were never going to be the same again.
I worried about how that would affect our family.
I was worried that my son would hate me for bringing someone new in.
I was worried that he would hate his sister.
I was worried that my husband and I wouldn’t be able to cope with two kids.
I was worried that I would never have time for myself again.
The closer I got to my due date, the more anxious I became. I was reading every book imaginable trying to prepare myself. I was talking to my son about what to expect. I was prepping my house. But nothing could truly prepare me before she was actually born.
I remember when I was leaving for the hospital to be induced. It was going to be my first night away from my son ever. I felt so guilty for leaving him. I remember hugging him so tightly, so as never to forget what it was like with him being my one and only. I hugged him to ensure that he knew how much I loved him, and that he will always be the boy who made me a mom, and that nothing, and no one, could change the relationship that we had.
I cried so much those days leading up to her birth. I cried, and I was scared, and I was worried, and I felt like no one understood what I was feeling. My husband tried so hard to be supportive, and he was, but I knew that he didn’t quite get it. All of my feelings were just so bottled up until she was born. And then they were set free.
With all of the negative things that I remembered, I also remember quite a few positives.
I remember when I first set eyes on my beautiful, albeit purple, little girl. She was born so quickly, that I barely had time to even realize that it was finally happening. When I saw her, I was in shock, but I loved her. My heart didn’t have to find space to love her; it grew. I was so worried that I wouldn’t have enough in me to love her like I loved my son, but I did. I did love her. I loved her more than I could have ever imagined. But then shortly after she was born, I worried again.
Wait, I haven’t been around my son in a few days. Will I still love him as much as I did before she was born?
My mom then brought my little boy in the room. I immediately wondered why I even worried. My heart was so full of love for both of my children. My little boy gave me a hug, and kissed his little sister. I couldn’t believe just how blessed I was. How could I have been given such perfect children?
The days after her birth once the two of us were home were so unbelievably difficult, that I can’t even remember them. I was pulled in so many different directions. I wanted to be there for my son, but my daughter needed me.
But it only took me a few days to realize that my little boy needed me too. He felt like he lost his mom, and I had to constantly remind him that he didn’t.
It was hard for everyone. I won’t pretend that it wasn’t. We were all tired, and emotionally drained, but we were a family. And amid the exhaustion and tears, I was grateful.
I was grateful that my body was able to grow two perfect humans, and that I was the lucky woman who got to be their mother.
I was grateful that I had a supportive husband who willingly helped with both children.
I was grateful that they were both healthy.
I was grateful to be a mom.
And that is the most important thing that I have remembered. And I remember it every day as I look at my beautiful children.
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