When I was pregnant with D everyone I spoke to told me second babies just fit right in. There’s no time for sitting or cuddling for hours and jumping to each minuscule whimper.
They were wrong!
Baby number two entered the world in as relaxed a way as possible with an advised, planned c-section. It was amazing! I was prepared. There had been no panic, exhaustion or vomiting like with F’s emergency section. When they put him on my chest I wanted to burst. This is how I wish it had been first time round!
Then in recovery I started to think maybe something wasn’t quite right. D wouldn’t latch on. I’d heard lots of other mum’s stories and read quite a bit so thought – No pressure if he doesn’t latch he doesn’t latch, he can have a bottle.
With F I’d put so much pressure on myself to feed him it just didn’t work out and for lots of reasons I gave up 6 weeks in. This time I wanted to do things how I wanted, not how Biddy down the road did it or what the random Google snippet I’d come across said I should do. I was gonna do whatever kept me and my new family of four happy!
Anyways long story short, D didn’t latch till day 5. Turns out a little tear in his lung was making him feel pretty rubbish and this whole being born thing had taken a lot out of him. So after nearly a week in neo-natal, feeding tube removed he found the boob said “ah mummy that’s what I was after” and hasn’t let go since!
This time round I felt a little more like I knew what I was doing and what to expect.
I needed to split myself in half.
The week in hospital had given me and the hubby some dedicated snuggle time with our new bundle. But there was a little boy at home wondering why Granny had come to stay. Mummy had disappeared and Daddy kept coming home and going away again. After what I thought would be one max two nights away from my number one son turned into six we brought baby number two home.
Both of us happy and healthy.
We felt so blessed after a scary week. I thought we were gonna be just like the Walton’s. Ha, ha, ha! It took weeks and weeks, maybe even months before F would acknowledge this new little being Mummy was carrying around. Obviously thinking – pretend he’s not here and he’ll just go away…
Daddy went back to work and it was time for me to figure this two under two shit out!
I think this was where it all went tits up…
I didn’t know who to tend to first. We kept Tesco in business by the many packets for raisins and rice cakes bought to bribe with or buy me time. My main aim was to try and keep F’s world as normal as possible. He was here first.
He was new to the game what did he know! How silly was I! He knew if he cried I’d pick him up, pop him in the sling and carry him round all afternoon. Nice and snuggly. Have a boob when he liked and sleep when he liked. Life as the boss was shaping up nicely. Well as his first birthday looms, the boy is no different – he still gets fed when ever he wants, pretty much sleeps when ever he wants and is helping Tesco out in having his share in raisins and rice cakes. All whilst his brother sticks regimentally to his routine trotting off to bed for his 12 hours at 7pm.
I thought I’d cracked number one.
Baby number two would be the exact same. I’d do the same things… They’d follow the same routine… It wouldn’t be that hard… Who was I kidding! They look alike but that’s where the similarities stop. Brilliant in their own way! Well that’s what I like to tell myself when they are both eventually asleep for a few hours… Jeez that’s a bit corny, but when they’re not driving me half way up the wall they are pretty adorable kids.
Anyways, D didn’t just arrive and fit right in… He came along, decided he wanted to be the boss of C residence and has been fighting Mummy for the her Crown ever since! He’s the reason Daddy says no more babies, the reason I deserve my glass of wine at bedtime but mostly one of the two little reasons I want to do it all over again (just not yet!).