Becoming a mother of two. Pregnancy the second time around.

To be pregnant is to carry creation inside you. To realise that your body is not completely yours. It is to surrender to the mystery. To surrender your own control. No one can control if and when they become pregnant, you have no say over whether you carry a boy or a girl, you do not know for sure that your baby will be healthy, you do not choose what type of pregnancy you have – whether you glow and breeze through it or whether you struggle through every pregnancy symptom in the book, you rarely choose your birth. And once the baby is conceived inside you there is nothing you do to grow him or her, as you sleep little arms and legs sprout, tiny fingers and toes, skin and ears and lungs. It truly is life’s greatest miracle.

Pregnancy is very much a season of preparation, of waiting, of looking to the future, of letting go of the past. For your first pregnancy it is about you becoming a new person – becoming a mother. It is starting on a journey that is long and unknown, the only known thing is that you must commit to it, commit to the journey for the rest of your life.

And as I carry my second child I realise that even though I am already a mum, this pregnancy and baby is no less significant than my first and this little one will change our lives just as dramatically. And yet, despite this realisation I have felt that I have had so much less time and so much less focus for this second child of mine. Everyone says the second pregnancy is different. And it certainly feels different to me, (and I’m not just referring to how much earlier and faster my belly started to grow…).

My first pregnancy was a beautiful time. I was able to change my entire life so that I could focus on the baby that was coming. I wrote letters to my unborn baby (one which you can read here), I got acupuncture to prepare for the birth, I did prenatal yoga, I read and read and read about pregnancy and birth and newborns, I bought a pram and a cot and room décor, I wrote birth affirmations and drank birthing tea, my husband and I attended birthing class together, we met with our doula, we went on a babymoon, we did a pregnancy photo shoot, we had a gender reveal party and a baby shower, I sorted through piles of gorgeous newborn clothes that were given to us, I journalled so I wouldn’t forget how it felt to carry a life inside me. And all of these things were important to me because they acknowledged and celebrated the huge change that was about to happen and they prepared me for the journey ahead.

This time, I have actively tried to recreate that focus and calm that I had but it just hasn’t worked. Now I am more likely to read a book about toddler behaviour than about birth or breastfeeding. My first born is still the one that takes us through uncharted waters. I feel, that compared to my first, I have put very little time into preparing for this one. Yet she is just as significant, just as loved. So much of the preparation is not about the baby, but about me. Though it seems strange, painting a chest of drawers is mental preparation for the sleepless nights. This is the reason that when I made my daughter a santa sack for Christmas I felt I had to make two. My mum said, ‘I don’t really understand what the rush on the second one is…’ But it is about my mind moving from being a mother of one to a mother of two. It is about giving my second everything I have given my first.

But, though I would love to repeat everything I did for my first, I know that being pregnant with my second is simply different. It’s different for me and everyone else. It was different right from when I first told people I was pregnant. Because they have celebrated this before. Because they think I already know everything and already have everything. Because this time I already have a child to chase after. Being pregnant for the second time means getting a pregnancy massage and then crawling on the floor to pick up food my one year has thrown on the ground. It is trying to remember to tell my husband when our baby is moving so that he can feel her. It is loving the magic of carrying a baby inside me and not wanting it to end too soon.

Two weeks before my first daughter was born I went on maternity leave from work. It marked the end of something and the beginning of something new. It was significant and celebrated. It transitioned me to a time of waiting, it gave me time and permission to rest, to focus on me, to nest, to get ready. But when you are a stay at home mum there is no maternity leave, there's no break before the baby arrives, one season doesn't end before the next one starts. The world seems to think you will seamlessly transition. 

With this pregnancy I have noticed just how much of what is written about pregnancy, birth and newborns is tailored towards first time mums. Photos in baby magazines are always of a mother and one baby. Always. Magazines and books are full of advice like ‘get as much rest as you can before the baby comes,’ and ‘sleep when the baby sleeps', information about what to expect for a first time labour and birth. Perhaps by now we are simply supposed to know it all.

People have told me the second baby is easier, because you know what to expect. And yet, for me, it still feels just as unknown. The unknowns are two fold. Firstly, the baby and birth are just as unknown because they say every baby is different. But secondly, I wonder how the way I mother my daughter will change and how it has to. How will it be possible to sit and snuggle my toddler to sleep when I have a newborn? How will I entertain my toddler when my newborn needs cuddles and feeding on the couch?

I recently was reminiscing with a friend about my first birth, about how I had a birthing candle and so many evenings alone with my husband to prepare, how calm and lovely it was when I bought my first home from the hospital, how I could fully embrace the long days and nights of breastfeeding. And my friend said, ‘you have to let the first one go. This one wont be the same, but it will be beautiful in a different way.’ And it already is beautiful in a different way. Like when my one year old points to my belly and says ‘baby’. In some ways it has been easier because I have known what to expect, how to get through the awful days of sickness, and there’s been less preparation because I don’t need to spend as much time researching baby carriers. And in some ways it has been harder because the world didn’t stop this time when I got pregnant, because I have a one year old to look after and because, as I race towards the finish line, I'm reminded of what a big deal welcoming a child is, whether that be your first, your second or your fifth. 

Waiting for nap time

I love being a mum. And I adore my daughter. When I watch her play and learn and grow it absolutely melts my heart. Which is why I feel so guilty admitting that most days my favourite time is nap time. And lately I have been deeply yearning to be something more than a mum. Today is one of those days. When everyone else in the house got up, packed their bags and headed out the door to their jobs and I found myself at home, my daughter and I in our pjs, building duplo towers and I wondered just how much longer I could put two pieces of duplo together and pull them apart again before I lost my mind.

Perhaps I need to fill my days with more activities? Get out of the house more? Spend more time with friends with kids? But I actually do this, I plan a play date or activity for nearly every day. It is how I stay sane.

Having recently moved to a new place I’ve been looking around to find the playgroups and kids activities in my area. And there’s heaps happening. But I’ve been lacking motivation to get involved. I spoke to a friend about it and she said ‘what you need is to find something that is meaningful to you’. And I realised that is the exact reason that story time at the library isn’t cutting it.

Often, after drinking 500 pretend cups of tea, I find being home with my daughter boring. Yet I would never be bored if I was home alone. I have big dreams and plans for my own life, much of which can be achieved at home. My frustration is that I just can’t seem to reach them. Instead I spend my days trying to teach my daughter to pick up the towels she just pulled off the shelf and sit in her highchair.

Each morning I have a plan of things I would love to do that day, and I always think ‘I’ll do that in nap time’. I run a business in nap time, I clean the house, I use it to catch up on sleep because my daughter still wakes us up at night, I do the family admin, I read books about babies and toddlers, I sort and plan and get ready for our new baby and I use it as my time to do anything that I want to do for myself (like write this blog or any creative project that I have on the go). There is just so much that I want to do during nap time. And I often find myself frustrated that I can’t get it all done. The problem here is that I have tried to squeeze an entire life of stuff into a 1.5 hour window each day.

I had a realisation last year when it occurred to me that nap time was only slightly longer than the time it took my husband to get ready for work in the mornings. He would normally have an hour to himself before work while my daughter and I were still asleep. The difference is that no one had any expectations of him in that hour. All he had to do was get himself ready for work. On the other hand I have all kinds of ideas and plans for nap time. Surely I can do it all, other women seem to!

When I imagined being a stay at home mum I imagined myself as the baker, the crafty mum, the well educated reading mum who knows everything about kids’ development and parenting, the exercising mum, the mum with homemade pintrest toys, the mum with a fridge and freezer full of healthy snacks, the mum who was always trying out new recipes. Never would I be bored as a mum! But, in reality it took me three months to make playdough. Sometimes it takes hours to cook a meal because I also have to hold my daughter’s ‘baby’ and repeatedly wrap it up in a teatowel and shush it to sleep. For some reason watching me rock and shush her doll makes my daughter incredibly happy. That’s why, despite my daughter being 18 months old and me loving home and creative projects, you haven’t seen any on my blog so far. I am planning to make a mobile for my new baby though….. But I’m not even going to try to fit that one in to nap time.

Once I started talking about this I discovered I’m not the only one facing this challenge. A friend of mine has started getting up at 4am just so she can have three hours to herself before her mummy duties kick in. Others I know find meaning in going back to work. Others have their toddlers in childcare. Others, perhaps, simply love playing with duplo. 

This isn’t a blog post with answers. In fact it is a post with a question to other mums. I am genuinely curious – how and when do you get things done? What do you use nap time for? Do you feel less productive than before you had kids and how do you cope with this? And, most importantly, how much time can you spend building duplo towers?