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| Me with my girls |
My second and
youngest child turns one year old on Saturday. This fall has brought with it a
flurry of memories and reflections. Perhaps it’s because Abigail is possibly our
last baby, or perhaps it’s simply a rite of motherhood.
Small, simple
things plunge me into October of last year. The brilliant red leaves on the
maple tree outside our kitchen window and the smell of autumn in the air remind
me of the final days of my pregnancy a year ago. My husband and I were awaiting something
exciting and keenly aware these were our final days as a family of three.
I tried to
make the most of my time with my oldest daughter, Megan. We spent hours playing
in the back yard. Megan flitted about acting out the story of Rapunzel and
swinging from the top of her play-climber-turned-enchanted-tower. I perched
absentmindedly on the step and rested my hands on my belly, feeling the baby roll
in her tight confines and wondering when labor would begin.
Megan and I also
spent long afternoons watching Disney movies while we snuggled in the recliner,
my body tired and round. I held Megan close, tucking away memories of how her
slender little body felt in my arms and how her hair felt brushing against my
cheek.
Labor started
at 2:15 the morning of October 27. About five hours later, Abigail was here.
The nurses at the hospital complimented me on my “ideal” delivery: a relatively
fast labor with an epidural for pain relief. I spent that
afternoon snuggling and dozing with Abigail in my arms, and I awoke when my
husband, Josh, and Megan arrived to visit late in the afternoon. Megan grinned
as soon as she saw Abigail and me, and she climbed into bed with us for a
closer look at her new sister.
Those first
days after delivery were idyllic. I was confident as a mother, having gone
through the newborn phase once already. I reveled in the flurry of Facebook
congratulations and ate French toast almost every day at the hospital. There
was Abigail’s 24-hour readmittance to the hospital for jaundice treatment, a
simple but annoying setback. Finally, on Halloween night, she was released and
we all came home as a family for good. Josh picked Abigail and me up from the
hospital. In the back seat, Megan sat wearing her princess costume and
clutching a shopping bag full of treats she had collected in our neighborhood.
There was a
rush of family visits. We received gifts from the neighbors and meals from
church friends. My in-laws came over several times with food and cleaned my
house for me. We slowly settled into our new life.
I loved all
my little moments with Abigail. She spent her early months sleeping in a
bassinet that attached to the side of our bed. I would pull her into bed to
nurse, and I loved the smell of her head and the feel of her hair as she
nuzzled under my chin. I loved fastening her into my baby carrier and enjoying
the closeness.
But life as a
family of four was also harder than I expected. I was often tired, had less
patience with my firstborn, and sometimes felt like there was not enough of me
to go around. Many days I felt like a bad mom to Megan, who was no longer the
main focus of my attention, except perhaps when she got herself in trouble. She
was a preschooler with a budding will of her own and a lot of time on her hands
now that I had a newborn. When I did have time to spend with her, my physical
and emotional resources felt tapped out. It didn’t help that winter had arrived
and we were stuck at home, unable to play outside, and I was hesitant to take
Abigail among crowds during cold and flu season.
But the
months passed, all too quickly, and we survived. As Abigail grew out of the
newborn stage, life got a little easier. She eventually began sleeping through
the night and napping regularly. Megan started attending preschool. My hormones
quieted. I read and reread some good parenting books. My husband offered
support. Abigail became more independent as she learned to sit unassisted,
crawl, and now take a few steps.
I don’t quite
know how we got from October of 2011 to October of 2012 so quickly. Two
children seem to make time pass doubly fast. But somewhere along the way, I
realized just how happy I am with our little family of four.
This fall, as
the leaves turn red on our little maple tree in the back yard, I watch our two
little girls play together and am thankful for simple joys. Megan holds Abigail’s
small hands and helps her walk around the yard, their feet shuffling among the
fallen leaves. I sit back and feel a little sad about my baby – perhaps my last
baby – growing up. Life with two little girls is a lot more interesting, and
beautiful. It has been a good year and a hard year, and a fulfilling year. As I
light Abigail’s single birthday candle this weekend, it will mark that
bittersweet passing of time.
You can
contact Rachael by e-mailing her at Rachael@mumblingmommy.com.
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