Since I last checked in with you, my little family has grown by an extra two hands and two feet! While I’m not quite ready to share baby B’s birth story yet, I wanted to talk a little bit about our transition from one to two kids.
So here it is; the raw, the honest, the real.
I’m tired, you guys…. sooooo dang tired. In fact, as I write this, my eyes are literally closing. They’re also swollen because I’m battling an awful eye infection, I’ve basically been living in leggings and nursing tanks, and I’ve probably left the house a grand total of three times since our son was born a little over three weeks ago.
Life with a two year old and newborn is EXHAUSTING (mostly on the part of the two year old, haha). I’ve also forgotten what it’s like to sleep in two hour increments during the night. Today alone I’ve had three cups of coffee and still feel like a walking zombie.
Anyway. These are the first “real” photos I’ve taken since becoming a mom of two only three weeks ago. So many dark circles under my eyes that makeup hides so well. I think it took me a good two hours to actually do my hair and makeup, which made me feel a little bit more human and like myself.
Honestly, most days I don’t look nearly as put together as I do here. Most days I’m covered in spit up, drowning in laundry and rocking yesterday’s (or the day before’s) messy bun. Most days I’m trying to just keep us all alive until my husband walks in the door. And speaking of husbands… I’m so lucky to have one that drops everything to change all the diapers the moment he gets home so that I can quickly shower and feel semi-human again… usually not without a good cry first.
You see, this transition to a family of four has been hard. Much harder than I thought it would be. I had this crazy idea in my head that the transition would be a breeze for A, my oldest, who is also a serious mama’s boy.
Haha… how wrong I was.
We are now in the midst of two year old tantrums and three week old growth spurts. And unfortunately, I can’t be in two places at once, so someone always seems to end up in tears (usually joined by myself).
The love in my heart has grown by leaps and bounds since having our second son, but at the same time, the mom guilt has doubled and intensified. If I’m holding my newborn, I feel guilty when my two year old tries to get my attention. If I’m playing with my two year old, I feel guilty for not holding my newborn who is often content just hanging out in his crib. When I’m tandem nursing both boys, I feel guilty for pouring so much of my heart into both of them that it seems my husband only gets the remains at the end of the day.
I feel stretched thin in every direction, like there isn’t enough of me to go around and make everyone perfectly happy.
I’m still trying to figure out how to balance this new way of life. I don’t know how to give enough of myself to a newborn, a toddler, and a husband while still maintaining a sense of identity.
I won’t lie that it’s hard. I won’t lie that most days I cry.
I cry a lot.
But the most ironic part is that in the depths of struggle, my heart has never felt more full, more alive, more joyful, more love. It’s truly the strangest paradox and I wouldn’t trade it for the world.
Can anyone else relate?
How did you feel about the transition from a family of three to four?