It’s 7 p.m. and I’m home alone with the girls – who are miraculously both asleep at the moment. I should feel overjoyed right now, but I don’t. I feel kind of sad. I’m sitting on the floor of the nursery remembering how many blog posts I wrote as I struggled in our last season with a newborn. That was so hard, and this is a different hard.
Bedtime was tricky tonight. Baby didn’t want to be put down without screaming, and big sister was overtired and clearly feeling shortchanged. Bedtime stories were cut short, routines amiss and mom’s back cramped from the one-armed infant hold…the other hand always holding a book, or pouring milk or opening the door to let dogs in and out.
There’s so much joy in this season, so much awe and wonder as your family expands and you’re granted the most precious gift. It’s so magical it rarely feels real.
But there’s also a great deal of fatigue and monotony and robotic-ness. Of questioning your abilities and feeling guilty you’re not more grateful, always wondering “how will I do this all again tomorrow?” There’s contemplating if you’ll survive this new life with a fulltime job starting back in a few weeks – with even less of yourself to give.
The part that is hardest is the nagging feeling that one kiddo is always being slightly neglected while the other is tended to, and the awareness that you miss your spouse who is often home at the same time – even in the very same room – but right alongside you in the messy tagteam.
On paper of course we’re doing enough. They’re thriving. These challenges and transitions are necessary and normal. But it’s hard. It doesn’t sit well with me to feel like the child who had 100 percent of my attention up until two months ago now feels that much less. And that the baby who needs me constantly spends more time in her Pack and Play than I’d like.
But I know they’re going to be fine. We’re going to be fine. It’s ALL going to be fine. I tell myself that 100 times a day and I know it’s true. It’s just a learning curve to navigate these new waters.
And now…the baby is back up again and I’m pulled back into the beautiful mess.