“You know we are going to be starting over again”, John said, after we found out I was pregnant last fall.
We had tried on and off for years and had just about given up.
Jackson was 5, we were out of the baby years. Out of diapers and baby proofing. We had a child who slept through the night and could get himself breakfast in the morning. We must have been nuts to want more.
And I know a few people probably were surprised we were having another. I was mostly content with Jack’s only child status. I had accepted my role as mom to one .
There are still times when I wonder if we were nuts to go backwards .
Back to nap times and debates about breastfeeding and bottle feeding. To thinking about sleep training and schedules and how the fuck will I ever get this baby to sleep .
And it’s weird to once again have a diaper bag and a stroller . To go to bed early and get up earlier.
Our lives have totally changed. And our social life has taken a hit. When we had Jack everyone was having babies or thinking about having babies and now our friends are beyond the baby stage. They aren’t exhausted from sleepless nights with a newborn. Their lives don’t revolve around a nap schedule. They’ve had their babies or decided not to have babies, we are no longer in the same place.
I know I’m going to be the old mom when Grace goes to school. I know I’m in for a tough few years. I know that kids 5 years apart can raise some eyebrows.
And I know some days I feel too old to be starting over again.
Most days I’m exhausted and tired and irritable. I’m easily annoyed . I need silence and time to myself. I’m tired of being touched constantly.
But when I hold her in my arms, when I see her smile, when Jack hugs her or makes her laugh, when John dresses her in pink and rocks her to sleep, I know I wouldn’t have it any other way.