Going from having just one kid to being a mother of two is harder than it sounds. In 2019, I had to relearn motherhood from scratch.
For the first time in over 15 months, since becoming a family of four, both of my children slept through the night, without interruption.
Fifteen months. Roughly 465 days. That’s how long it’s been since I’ve had a full night of rest. Longer, if you include the last trimester of pregnancy. Exhausted doesn’t begin to scratch the surface of how I feel. But after last night’s glorious victory of sound sleep for us all (even if now jinxed), I’m tentatively hopeful.
Hope has become a more familiar sentiment these days, and I think entering a new year has a lot to do with it. Though I know that making resolutions in January is an arbitrary practice, the end of holiday madness and return to everyday normalcy provide the ‘clean slate’ of opportunity my brain needs to feel motivated for positive change. (Of course, a full night of sleep helps a lot, too.)
After 2019, I needed a fresh start more than ever. I had my second child in October 2018, which makes last year the first full calendar year I’ve spent as a mother of two. Here’s the unexpected thing I have discovered in that time: I’ve had to relearn motherhood from scratch.
You think you have it all figured out after the first one. You survived the newborn phase where sleep seemed forever unattainable; established routines for eating, bathing, napping, bedtime, and everything in between. You enjoyed being an adult again, because you felt comfortable letting someone else watch your kid while you went out alone (or even on a date!), and didn’t worry that the caregiver would be too traumatized to come back again the next time. Though certainly not without its annoyances and issues, the time between having your first and second child largely seems predictable, controlled, and even relaxed. You find a rhythm and, in hindsight, it’s really quite lovely.
I wish I hadn’t taken it for granted.
When you go from one kid to two, the hard work you put into building a strong family structure feels as if it’s ripped apart. You want to keep routine for your older child, but have difficulty enforcing it. Chores fall by the wayside. Trips to the park and store, which finally started to feel easy with one, now involve much more hassle, tears, gear, and, of course, time. Just as one calms down, the other gets upset, and often you’re all just crying at the same time.
So many times during the past year of juggling two, I felt like I had no idea what I was doing. Not only did I feel like a failure as a mother, but I also felt like I was failing myself. During the short time of being a mom to just one child, I worked hard to ensure I didn’t completely lose myself to motherhood. I got back into an exercise routine that I enjoyed (going on long walks on the Greenway with my daughter), finally got to wear clothing that wasn’t exclusively convenient for nursing, adopted a nourishing diet that kept me eating at normal times, and even took time to go on fun outings with girlfriends (BYOB painting is a big fave of mine).
In 2019, I spent a solid portion of my time trapped under a breastfeeding baby and felt my fitness levels decrease with each passing day; instead of maintaining my steady diet, I worried tirelessly over restricted foods because of my infant son’s allergy-induced eczema; I struggled with postpartum depression and anxiety, isolating myself from friends and social functions. I lost myself in motherhood.
Many experienced, wise parents told me when I’d vent my frustrations, “This, too, shall pass.” Indeed, they were right. Hindsight is 20/20, and, though it’s especially cliche and corny to use this now, I want 2020 to be my year. Instead of wallowing in anxiety and frustration, letting those feelings lead my sense of control over my life, I feel the fog of the last year lifting. I can see much more clearly. And things finally appear to be looking up, once again.
