I see you. You’re pregnant with your second child, and scared shitless. You watch your kankles grow as you chase your toddler through the park, with elbows and kicking legs thrust into your growing belly as you help your wannabe vagrant into his car seat. You’re not sure if you can love anything as much as your first. You have no idea how you’re going to manage your time any better, and how you could possibly be more busy or more tired. You are trying to come to terms with failure, that your kids will end up hating you, and that someone will surprise you with an open invitation to a casting call on “Hoarders”. Those moms out there who have more than one child just make it look so easy somehow.
Now I’m going to tell you a little story.
Once upon a time, there was a mother of one tiny cherub, who slept like an angel, breastfed with ease, and was forever docile and smiling. The bond between mother and daughter was automatic and beautiful. They were destined for perfect harmony.
But there was a dark side to this mother. She forever doubted herself and her baby. She was always researching, trying to find simpler ways to do this or that, comparing her daughter to milestones, never putting her daughter down for fear that she may feel negligent. She was a new mom, and she wanted to do it all the “right” way – breastfeed for over a year, feed her only organic homemade baby food, use cloth diapers, so on and so forth.
But while she spent so much time trying to accomplish these things and mostly failing, her daughter grew. She grew and she grew and she grew. Until one day, she wasn’t a baby anymore! She was a beautiful little girl, who one day whilst potty training, thrust a warm turd into her Aunt’s hand. She ran and splashed in muddy puddles, with or without the accompanying rain boots. She ate week old Goldfish from between the couch cushions. She pulled every. single. damn. toy out of it’s place every day in her playroom. Chaos consumed the household. Beautiful, noisy, irritating chaos. It was then that the mother began to realize, that she had spent her child’s first year worrying for absolutely nothing.
Another child was born. A boy, who from the very beginning was a force to be reckoned with. His labour was so hard and fast, he has decided to give his mother a sharp glance at his personality right from birth. And it didn’t get any easier – he was starving constantly. He barely silagra medicine ever slept, and he cried as soon as his head hit the car seat for a solid six months. The mother completely lost it on more than one occasion, and hated herself for it. She felt her first child was being completely ignored. “Why can’t I do this right?” She would wonder to herself. “Why can all the other moms handle more than one kid, and I can’t?!”
She felt over-touched, underappreciated, and contemplated selling her left kidney to be able to take a shit with the door closed. Or fold an entire load of laundry in one go. Or eat ice cream for breakfast like she used to without pretending to be letting the dog out.
But then, a strange thing happened. Slowly but surely, the mother began to let go. She started to not care about the dog’s bone that she incessantly found in her newly crawling infant son’s mouth, or about the laundry piled up in it’s designated folding spot for over a week, only to have to dry it all again to get the damn wrinkles out. Eventually, it didn’t matter so much if she could get her toddler’s teeth brushed each day and night or if her daughter chose to wear quite literally a rainbow out in public.
There were multiple occasions of mispacked diaper bag fiascos, dirty diapers left in trunks for unreasonable amounts of time (don’t ask), desserts before dinners, and family meltdowns mid-walk for all of the neighbourhood to view at their leisure. The house was messy, the days short, and zero things got accomplished. But once the mom decided to give zero fucks to the unimportant things in life, life became a whole lot simpler. Not surprisingly, in the same respect, everyone also became a whole lot happier.
For the most part of course.
I mean, the mother still lost her shit on occasion to maintain peace in the land.
So there you have it.
“Be not afraid of the chaos, however it may come, but instead prepare to embrace it. For once we let go, we make room for the important things in life.” ~ The Mama Nurse
Our house becomes a home.
Our heart becomes full.
We accept the lessons we are meant to learn and the meaning of our life.
And most importantly, happiness comes strolling through your door like an old friend, cracks a beer and laughs at your ridiculous life.
Don’t let your fear of the unknown stop you from doing what you know in your heart is right for you. For only you truly know what your life can and will hold.
All the best, mamas.
xo, The Mama Nurse