I'm a night-worrier. Ever since I can remember, I do my best worrying at night. I'll wake up out of a perfectly-sound sleep and immediately commence to wasting an hour or so of precious time enjoying a barely-contained panic attack.
When I was younger, I stressed about school, not being popular, not being attractive to boys, my parents relationship, my hair. As an adult, I've mostly panicked about money. When I was a university student, I panicked about money and school. Before I got a dog, I panicked about the overwhelming sense of responsibility.
I was happily surprised when I got pregnant the first time and didn't once find myself waking up in a cold sweat. I was confident. I had a secure job, a paid maternity leave, a solid house and a great husband that I knew would make a wonderful father.
I was also ignorant.
I knew that raising a child was going to make serious demands on my personal time and space. I think I actually underestimated my ability to handle these demands. I've found myself to be a much more patient and tolerant parent than I ever imagined. I also (mostly) enjoy being a parent far more than I ever thought I would.
But now I find myself stressing about exactly how much more capacity I have for patience and tolerance.
I'm not worried that I won't be able to love this next child just as much as my first. I know that love is in infinite and renewable resource. I'm just not sure that I'll be able to maintain the relative parenting zen I've achieved when my time, attention and ability to patiently attend to the high-needs of a little person are split two ways.
I worry that I'll find myself tapped-out far quicker than I would like. I worry that I won't be able to handle the moments of frustration as gracefully; especially since I'm sure that two kids means a much higher frequency of such moments. I worry that I won't like myself as much as a mother of two.
I'm pretty confident that I'll soon find out we've made the right decision to stop at two.
I would put money on you being even more patient than you are now even. There is so much confidence that comes with the second child and you second guess yourself so much less. It is more physical work, but mentally so much easier because you have already done it before. You'll be awesome.
ReplyDeleteYou're very sweet and I appreciate the vote of confidence but I'm not sure I can see myself being more mellow in the face of two screaming darlings unless I take up some sort of recreational drug use...
DeleteBlog-hopped over here, first time reader, but have to comment as the mom of a 1-yr-old and a 3-yr-old. I, at least, had way less stress (& more enjoyment) over the phases and difficulties of babyhood; knowing Miss One is my last helped with that as well. But I'm short with Mr. Three a lot more often than I should be, and find I need to be conscious of my mood and temper at least as much as those of my kiddos. When pregnant with Miss One, I often wondered how anyone ever dealt with more than one kid, and the answer I always got is the only one there really is: You just do it. You will do FINE.
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