Yes. Barry Manilow.
A friend of mine is about to have her first baby. As in, within minutes. And another friend will be bringing home her second in a day or so. I adore them both, and I can’t help be think of the adjustments they are in for.
When we brought Drew home, I was a mess. A hormonal nightmare. Cliff and I laughed (later!) that I cried whenever someone walked into a room. And also when they left it. Honestly, as much as I loved him, I was terrified by the sudden responsibility. Nine months apparently was NOT enough time for me to prepare. We had all the Stuff, but you can’t register for sanity, I suppose. We brought him home on a Thursday, and we had a pediatrician appointment on Friday, and I looked at Cliff totally seriously and said “We just have to keep him alive until 8am. We can do that, right?”. I obviously failed to consider that they were going to send him home with us afterwards, too. I thought — oh my god, I have ruined my LIFE. And unfortunately, this poor poor little baby was going to pay the price, because by virtue of his association with me, I have ruined his life before it even started. And we had tried so long and wanted him so badly, who was I to be anything other than insanely blissful? Thank god I had a great friend who I called, and cried to, who laughed (in a nice way) and told me she was pretty sure every new mom had that panic. She told me to hold on, let life ride a bit, take it day by day and hour by hour if necessary, and one day I would wake up and realize that the whole day before I hadn’t cried or worried about something insane (What if the dog eats his face off while I am in the shower??) Sure enough, we found our groove. And eventually I even started showering again. But I never forgot how horrible that feeling was, the feeling that my life had suddenly spun totally out of my control, looking at Drew and thinking “How can I love something this much and be so absolutely terrified of it?”. So, for Laura, who I also know had a long hard road to motherhood, don’t think too much those first few weeks. Just let it ride. Be gentle with yourself.
I thought I was in a better place when Zak came along. In many ways I was, I suppose. His birth was a dream, I felt fantastic physically, I knew we were capable of not accidentally maiming him during diaper changes. Emotionally, though? Still hard. Everyone had warned us about Drew adjusting to being a Big Brother, but no one really talked about US adjusting to two. Suddenly Drew seemed like a giant hell bent on inadvertently (or not) crushing the baby, and Zak seemed like a baby dictator determined to keep Drew and I apart. I had been so concerned with Drew missing me when I was tending to the baby that I didn’t realize how much I was going to miss him in those early days. But I knew we’d find our way this time. We laughed after my 4pm cry sessions this time around, and tried to give each other a break. So for Megan, congratulations. The early days of two are a blur of thanklessness, but it will pay off in spades.
(h)
