I can’t believe I’m already finally here. It’s been a long old journey; a year or two of contemplating whether I should and could go down this route, about ten months of trying, and (almost!) nine months of actually doing it. And still, I’m yet to meet the baby it’s all been about. I’ve got through trimester one and all the nausea, I’ve got through trimester two and the anxiety. Now, here I am in the final strait.
It pains me to say this, but the start of the third trimester started with quite a wobble. Coincidentally, or perhaps completely relatedly, I’d been having struggles with my son over the first two trimesters of pregnancy. At the start of the third I was just coming out of the scare of a suspected waters breaking and finalising all the building work I’d been getting done. It felt like the stresses with my son had reached a peak and were beginning to calm. I was better managing my patience with him – meaning I was sticking to our boundaries without reverting to crappy parenting techniques 101. I was enjoying our evenings in bed again (it’s been a long time since I could say that, so blighted had they been for months with him going wild and me not responding much better) and the thought that this was all going to be turned upside down by the arrival of a little one seemed scary and – quite frankly – crazy. My days tend to operate on a scale between just about coping to seriously not coping, it was finally dawning on me that adding a newborn is only going to tip the scale one way.
I fear writing this. Perhaps my beautiful baby to be will read this in future and feel unwanted (that is NOT the reality!). I fear that those minds already so keen to think I’ve bitten off more than I can chew will be ready to mutter ‘I told you so’ – even if only under their breath. Like most parents-to-be I haven’t chosen to have a second baby because I think I rock at dealing with all night feeding, or that cleaning up a messy poo whilst wrestling a toddler out of the house sounded like a fun way to spend my mornings. I chose to have this baby because I wanted a little human in my life. Those of you who also feel that way will know that if your desire is strong enough there’s very little that will put you off trying. After making that decision though things changed. This journey morphed from being about having a baby, to getting pregnant. The two are linked – of course – but are very different things to get your head around. It took time and a lot of effort to get pregnant and the anxiety of the pregnancy in the first two trimesters meant I was avoiding thoughts or plans of how it will be to parent two children. Not being new to this motherhood malarky I convinced myself it wouldn’t be a big deal (that’s not to say I didn’t think it would be bloody hard, just that it wasn’t going to change my life entirely). Now I realise it will change more than my life. It will also change my son’s life entirely and that’s kind of scary. In the long run that will all be a positive thing, but I’m realising that it will take some serious adjustment on behalf of both of us before we reach that point. My son still takes a good while to get to sleep (though it has got easier recently). It’s not so much the length of time which he takes to fall asleep that’s the issue, it’s the level of involvement that is required from me; lying there beside him reading stories, singing songs, telling him rainbow dreams* and holding his hand until he finally drifts off. There is no-one who I can tag team to help with this, no-one to give me a break on the evenings I’ve had too much, and – crucially – no-one who can give my son a break from me putting him to bed. I literally have NO idea how this will work once a baby is added to the mix, let alone a crying/ feeding one.
Of course it will work, eventually, it will have to. People are quick to reassure me that we will all adjust to the changes. And they are right – sort of. Everytime me and my son have gone through a difficult transition we have made it through the other side. However, that belies the reality such transitions involve. Even lesser changes have involved huge amounts of stress, many tears, and a lot of anger. I’m realising now that I’m likely to be hitting all three face on in the not so distant future, with a heavy dose of post baby hormones and sleep deprivation. It’s enough to put the fear of God in any one. Thoughts of, would we have been happier just the two of us, and concerns that I could have been a better parent to just one, have flashed past my mind in recent weeks. I’m pretty sure that the stress and hormones of the last year and a half of fertility treatment and pregnancy, have had a role to play in the struggles we’ve both had. I can only imagine the additional challenges that having another (very small) human to keep alive will bring into our lives.
This isn’t a post about me having changed my mind though. It’s a post about me being honest about how it feels. I never expected having another child to make my life easier. Happier – yes – but easier – most definitely not. I already struggle to cope at the moment, of course I have good days and non-eventful days, but when an additional stress gets piled on top, things get challenging and the relationship between my son and I bears the repercussions. I’ve always known that an additional child will add to those pressures, especially in the short term. But I’ve always wanted one regardless. And I still want one regardless, not any old one either – the one I’m carrying in my womb; the one I hope to meet in the not too distant future.
These concerns are only flashes in the pan. Writing them might make them seem more real to those on the outside, but for me on the inside, it helps me to sort it all out in my mind. Yes, I have those concerns. Yes, maybe I could have been a better parent to my son if I only had one, if by better we mean one who doesn’t lose her shit as often and spends more time helping him with his homework and has money for extra curricular activities. But I don’t for one second buy that, that is the kind of thing that will make me a good parent to my son.
Parenting two children together will allow me to model behaviour to the other in a way which is just impossible when 99% of the time it’s just the two of us.
Parenting two children together will allow me to try and support two humans to learn how to live and love in close proximity and still be kind.
Parenting two children together will allow me to have more fun and laughter.
Parenting two children will make me more focused on the parenting and less on anything else.
Parenting two children together will be the most wonderful thing I can imagine.
I’ve made my bed because that is where I want to lie. Even when I’ve tried the dating thing, even when I’ve tried building new friendship groups and going out more, it’s never worked; never felt quite right. But the idea of just being a family of three who are quite happy to stay in of an evening and curl up on the sofa has suddenly never felt so appealing.
By thirty weeks the anxiety had all but disappeared – this was my unspoken target. I knew the chances of baby being fine were now almost at 100%. I know it’s not ideal to be born that early but given the scare I had at twenty-six weeks, thirty plus weeks felt like a lavish amount of time for a baby of mine to stay inside. It’s not that I don’t imagine it’s incredibly hard having a premature baby but living without that huge sense of anxiety which was constantly weighing me down was really amazing. It wasn’t even just about the scare at 26 weeks, I was anxious from day one – perhaps that’s just me, perhaps it’s because I’d previously lost a baby – who knows. But finally I could begin to feel excited about the baby’s arrival, and if truth be told, actually believe I was about to have a second baby. Everything felt easier once that anxiety had gone. The movements which had been worryingly minimal for a while there, came back with a vengeance and I loved every single one of them. The big 360 degree turns which made me almost wince in discomfort, the sudden limb pushing against my stomach as baby tried to stretch and – probably my favourite of all – the little tickly movements right down behind my pelvic bone as baby moved his/ her hands around. Each and every time they bought a comfort to my heart.
Physically, the third trimester has been pretty hard, the discomfort from the ever expanding bump making it almost impossible to reach the floor – something which is an hourly need with a young person in the home. The heartburn as I try to sleep, the waking with cramps in my leg and pins and needles in my arms, have added to my already miserable sleep pattern. Apparently the pain in my knuckles, which is worst in the night and early morning, is thanks to carpal tunnel syndrome. My back pain, which lessened in the early days of the third trimester, came back with a vengeance around thirty three weeks. I have good days and bad days, but essentially there’s a constant dull pain with spurts of agony when I dare to do things like sit still for a while, lie down (including bedtime) or walk more than about 500 meters. Not great as you can imagine. Though not as hard as a lot of pregnant women have it I know. The exhaustion had been tough. I don’t know if it’s because my sleep is in two hourly intervals – broken thanks to back pain and a constant need to wee – or because I’m doing this solo with a demanding four year old to care for. Needless to say from around thirty three weeks I went from planning maternity leave for the last date possible (for financial reasons) to thinking sod this, I’m going to struggle financially either way I can’t cope working any longer. In the end I’m 36 weeks and still have a week or two left at work, so I guess the financial fears won out in the end. The really bad days, where the exhaustion and back pain leave me with less than a nanosecond of patience for my son, have highlighted the link between my bad days and my son’s ‘bad’ days – a reality which is hard to swallow without feeling real guilt for not having the patience and energy needed to deal with your own child. Despite all this though, overall, it’s probably been the easiest trimester. Mainly because of the lack of anxiety.
At times I’ve worried I’m in some kind of denial. At my first douala meeting it was quite clear I hadn’t really thought about anything to do with the birth. I was visibly surprised when she suggested our next meeting would be in a couple of weeks. Then she reminded me that I was in fact having a baby in the near future. I’m not sure if the denial was self-imposed because of the anxiety I’d been facing and the fear of how I would actually cope. Or perhaps it’s just normal when you’re doing this solo because there is no one to discuss the pregnancy or upcoming birth with so it doesn’t really register in your brain. I’m sure having an energetic four year old to deal with added to the lack of mental space I had allowed myself to contemplate the arrival of our newest team member. I regularly tell myself *this* week I will focus on the baby, but there always seems to be something in the way. Now at 36 weeks I’m so exhausted mentally and physically that there’s no-way I’m thinking about the baby. The sickness is back and I very much feel like I’m just getting through the days. If I’m at work it’s head down and hope it goes as fast as possible. If I’m home with my son then it’s making the most of low-energy activities – lots of drawing, reading, being his patient whilst he plays doctor (that’s my favourite) and of course telly.
I have done some research/ thinking about the birth but it feels a little haphazard. Since about thirty-two weeks I’ve listened to some podcasts – in spurts – and done some breathing exercises. The other day I even did my birth plan. I’ve started to look into names and I’ve allowed myself the chance to imagine the baby moving inside me as a real, live human in my arms. It’s been a long old journey to get to this point. Much longer than I ever envisaged. Now I can seen the end in sight and it looks beautiful.
* Rainbow dreams are a recent invention of mine, I would tell you what they are but as they have had an almost revolutionary effect on bedtimes I’m thinking of patenting the idea and becoming a millionaire so watch this space!
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