So, at our 20-week ultrasound scan we were told the wonderful news that we were expecting a baby boy. With the focus on being organised, this news meant I knew what of my daughter’s baby clothes I could pack away (i.e. the pink ones) and which clothes I could keep out and prepare for our son’s arrival (i.e. the gender neutral ones).
Most of my recollections of the entire pregnancy revolve around dealing with pregnancy nausea and trying not to vomit in front of my toddler. Although this wasn’t very successful as she developed a very clever talent for mimicking my less-than-glamorous moments hugging the toilet bowl. Her sound effects were frighteningly accurate!
There were also lots of moments chasing/waddling after her as she discovered the ability to walk and then run. My pelvic bone aches at the mere thought.
Overall it was an exhausting time. Growing a human being whilst keeping pace with an ever curious, go-go-go toddler who has a short-attention span takes it’s toll on a woman’s body. But there was really no reprieve from the constant fatigue, which was not helped by the fact that my daughter had dropped her day sleep.
To help alleviate my anxieties about managing two kids under two I read lots of parenting books to help prepare me for life with two very needy and dependent small humans. I wanted to be armed with as much knowledge as possible to feel prepared for the chaos that was likely to ensue when our new baby arrived.
I transitioned my toddler into a ‘big girl’ bed to vacate her cot ready for her new brother, following the parenting books’ instructions of doing this well ahead of my due date to prevent my daughter from feeling displaced.
Also at the advice of all the parenting books we started talking about the baby to our toddler and how she would soon be a big sister. This clearly went right over her head, but we talked about it anyway.
We also got her accustomed to having sleepovers at her grandparents’ house so that she was comfortable to stay with them while her dad and I were in hospital for her brother’s birth.
The majority of the pregnancy was less about ‘enjoying the glow’ like I did in my first pregnancy, and more about using the nine months to get ready. I did so much thinking and planning (and shopping) to prepare our little family to expand.
So when I was finally full-term and ready to meet our son, I felt fully prepared for the change that his birth would bring. I thought that nothing would surprise me, but I was wrong.
After a less than ideal childbirth – a story for another time – I held my baby son in my arms for the first time. My instincts kicked-in immediately and I was supremely protective of my little man, but also eager for his big sister to meet him.
The following day when they finally met I was struck by something that I hadn’t read in any of the parenting books that I’d devoured over the previous nine months. It sounds almost incidental, but no one warned me how huge my toddler would seem in comparison to her newborn brother.
She had always been my baby, my little girl, but as she stomped into my hospital room that day she seemed positively massive. It was a really powerful reminder of just how much she had grown in her short life. She was once the size of the tiny, swaddled baby I held in my arms, but in 19 short months she had grown into a walking, talking, rambunctious toddler, full of life and personality.
Any doubts that I had over my ability to care for these two small children blew away in that hospital room. I took a deep breath and realised that I’d done it all before, and that although it wouldn’t be easy, I knew I was perfectly capable of doing it all over again.
