Loving Two - Michael and Chelsea

The news that I was pregnant with baby no.2 earlier than we’d planned was the best Mother’s Day present ever but also quite scary. As the months progressed, I grew close to the little bump inside me and thought a lot about who it would be, but at the same time, there was guilt inside me that my special relationship with child no.1, only just one year old, would be changed forever. He was a wonder to his dad and me, a miracle who we were besotted with and very proud of. Our relationship was precious and close, and I worried about the changes his sibling would bring.

Then there was the guilt for baby no.2...how could I ever love him or her as much as I love child no.1? I had a dread that I wouldn’t be able to fulfil the most important role as a mum, to love my child unreservedly. I felt guilt at my concern that this new person would intrude on the special relationship that child no.1 and I shared.

But then, baby no.2 was born and the love I felt for her was as instant and complete as it had been 22 months earlier when child no.1 was born. Hormones came through for me and kick-started the journey of love, totally shocking me in its completeness. What hormones began, new little life in all her cuteness continued and I was besotted with her. In the 11 hours I had with her before taking her home to meet Child no.1, dozens of feelings were racing through me alongside new love. They were mostly happy and good, but also continuing guilt that I was betraying my firstborn with this love for my second, and fear that he would see that and thus feel betrayed, never to forgive me for my indiscretion.

I had no reason to worry. Child no.1 accepted his new baby sister into his world with excitement, joy, affection, love, curiousity, pride and protectiveness. She was immediately HIS, and it has remained that way since. My worries, fears and guilt were completely unfounded, as my firstborn had no hesitation in welcoming his sister into his life as his friend, playmate, giggler, partner in crime (against parents!) and pupil. There was no resentment, no acknowledgement that the love of his parents that was previously totally his is now shared. Perhaps parental love is never halved but the capacity the heart has for love doubles?

My most lasting impression from the journey of welcoming another member to our family is how I never even considered that we were giving Child no.1 a gift by having another baby. Although an optimistic person by nature, I could previously see only how everything from now on was going to be lessened as far as his world would be concerned... time, attention, love, patience. I failed to recognise that giving a child a sibling could be the most valuable present ever given. There’s more love, more company, more laughs, more adoration.
I also under-estimated, in my moments of guilt that baby no.2 would never have the experience of being a doted-on first child, just how much of an admirer role her big brother would take, giving her not 2 but 3 doters. He strokes her cheek lovingly, runs to her if she cries, lies with her and cuddles her gently. He shows off to her, doing anything in his power to make her chuckle, and then is so proud when she does. She has not only her mummy and daddy who are excited as she reaches each milestone, but a big brother too.
I watch as baby gazes in open amazement at her big brother, she totally adores him and it shows so openly in her little innocent face. I realise that there is nothing lost for either of them by becoming a big brother or by being the second child...they have in fact received their own special gifts as a consequence of being their place in the family. They may have to share our time and there never seems to be enough of it, but they also have each other’s time too. And not only do they not have to share our love, because there’s more than ever, but they receive each other’s love too, so love abounds like never before. 31st August 2008

Emotional Rollercoasters

It's a week since I got out all my thoughts on here and as writing always does, it made me feel good and kind of cleansed. With words all clearly out, thoughts weren't circulating around my head in a random confused manner. It's been a good week.

And I've figured it out. Being head of a household, in charge of the daily runnings, feels like being a General in a war. Now, I don't mean to minimise war and its horrors, but in the 4 walls of our Kingdom, being mum is being the General in the war. I feel like i have my troops well-trained, organised, in control. Sometimes i'm even being super-General and organising extra training to entertain the troops, like craft or a box obstacle course. Feeling proud of them and of me, I begin to relax and enjoy.

BAM BOOM...a reminder that a mother, like a General, should never relax...a Bomb hits. The motive for the bomb may be unknown and seemingly insignificant, the blast was unexpected but the damage caused may be huge (certainly time-consuming and energy-draining). Maybe one of the troops was using the colour of pencil that the other wanted, or maybe the General left the troops happily at it to hang out the washing and this caused disorder to erupt. Whatever the motive, BAM, the bomb has hit and the rubble needs to be cleaned up and order resumed.

So, the General puts in the work to resume order, get the troops under control and happy once more, and starts again to relax into the knowledge that she is doing a good job with her Unit, and that she is, indeed, a worthy General. But again without warning, BAM, another bomb, maybe 2 minutes after the last, maybe up to an hour. Probably a different motive, but always the same result. Disorder in the warzone, chaos within the troops. More time and energy cleaning up the mess, whether it be physical or emotional mess.

And so the day goes on. And the next day too. In fact, everyday with toddlers is like this warzone. Unpredictable, unexplainable. A war is certainly not the best analogy because there is not the wonder and beauty and cuteness in the troops and daily moments as there is in a home with toddlers. And the majority of the most days are filled with the wonderful moments rather than the warzone ones. But there is enough unpredictability on a daily basis to make even the good days feel like being in a warzone, because mum is still on edge waiting for bombs, in whatever form, to hit.

It's the emotional rollercoaster that every day as a mum is. Toddlers go through myriad of emotions every hour, mostly at different times to each other. And then there is my emotions to contend with as well, often particularly tired, maybe hormonal, certainly not completely stable and predictable. It is my job, as their mum, psychologist, cousellor, moderator, to help them deal with their emotions, as one of the main functions of toddlerhood is learning about dealing with emotions for yourself. And sometimes i wonder, who am I to teach when I am an emotional person too? Surely they notice that I am not always consistent in my responses.

Either of them (or me!) can go from laughing to an argument to tears to laughing to frustration to laughing to anger to tantrums to wandering off to laughing again in a matter of minutes. I am exhausted after an hour of it some days, and wonder how I am going to get through the rest of the day. No matter how much sleep I got the night before, emotional times can tip me over the edge into exhaustion. It can be something seemingly so insignificant that causes great shifts in emotions in toddlers, so when i say "emotional times", it isn't even that something bad has happened like death or illness. One of them might have walked toward the other at the wrong moment, or one might be able to remove a lid off a container, or one maybe hasn't quite mastered the art of putting on shoes but really wishes she had...etc....and that's seemingly all that is needed for big overflowing emotions.

Emotional management is not even one of the 'tasks' that can be ticked off as having been completed for the day, because it is ongoing for all the hours they are awake (and some nights, even while they're asleep). Sometimes i manage it really well and feel very proud. I put them to the bed at the end of the day feeling that i am indeed SuperMum. Other days thought, i put them into bed feeling relief that their day is over, then when i check on my sleeping angels later, I feel so guilty and DevilMum-ish that i didn't handle every situation as well as these two amazing kids deserve.

Unpredictable. Exhausting. Emotional. But still worthwhile and wonderful and precious. I never want to take away from that because truly, it is the majority (most days!). Let me explain about that just quickly. I write all the wonderful things in my family photoalbums, which are like journals for me. All the beautiful family memories, the funny things they say and do, they are proudly documented there. Here in this purely written form that they may never read, it all sounds bad but that's just me getting these confused thoughts out and making sense of why i find some hours in some days (or all the days in some weeks) so damn hard.