This is what everybody told us when we asked what it was like having a second child. That advice served it’s purpose; it scared us silly.
I’ve been pretty absent on the blog, which is something I’ve apologized for before. I could apologize for things I’ve haven’t checked off of my to-do list or projects I’ve abandoned until I’m blue in the face, and still, I’d need to apologize some more. That’s life with two kids.
When I did some crowd-sourcing on Insta, asking what folks would most like to see me blog about (cause, you know, a mom of two doesn’t have an ounce of creative energy to spare), the question I was asked the most was, “What is life/marriage like after with two kids?”
That was a couple of months ago, now, before I had to return to work, and to be honest, I thought to myself, “I don’t have an exciting answer, because life isn’t tremendously different than it was with just one kiddo.”
Oh, what a naive fool I was, folks.
Maternity leave ended, and I mournfully eased back into my life as a working mom. Elias started daycare. Our “real life” routines began establishing themselves, again. At first, it wasn’t so bad, unless you account for the fact that I broke down in sobs no less than three times during my first day back on campus, which was pretty mortifying.
I started work on a fourth textbook project. I committed to a new personal book project. I assumed some new responsibilities at work. My semester started, and I met 67 new students. Oh, and I am the keeper for my alcoholic father with dementia.
Elias still wasn’t (and isn’t) sleeping through the night. So, while I was deep-breathing through my re-entry, I was also still getting up every 2-4 hours, feeding a crying, perpetually hungry baby. That’s been our nighttime pattern for the past 6.5 months, which means I haven’t sleep through the night–or more than 4-5 hour stretches, on a good night–since Elias was born.
The thing is, I don’t think I really appreciated just how exhausted I was until I was actually expected to perform–to think, to collaborate, to contribute meaningful. It’s amazing how much the knowledge that you can come home after dropping your toddler off at daycare, stay in your pajamas all day, and nap whenever your baby naps can sustain you, even when you’re still really, woefully tired.
So, to answer the question now, after “real life” has started again, and I’m not longer a SAHM: life after two kids is exhausting. I know this is just a season of our lives. I know it’s a stage that will pass too quickly. I know that, one day, I’ll want desperately to be back in this stage, exhaustion and all.
But right now, I feel like I’m barely keeping it together. And by “it,” I mean my sanity, my marriage, my job, and any semblance of an identity outside of being a mom.
There’s good, too. Of course there is. That’s the parenting paradox that other parents know so well. Folks who don’t have kids will read this and think, “See–that’s why I’m never having children.” Folks who have kids will think, “Yep, I get you, sister.”
It’s as good as it is hard. Knowing that Elias is our last baby has made his first months all the more sweet. We’ve loved having him so much, in fact, that there have been more than a few occasions when we’ve questioned whether we’re really done having kids, checking our sperm donor’s supply and crying over the fact that it’s dwindling, quickly, which ultimately makes the decision for us.
And then there’s watching Finn and Elias together, which is enough to make even me want to go get knocked up this very second, despite the fact that none of us would likely survive another baby right now. Finn is an amazing big brother, and watching that part of his personality develop has been a gift.
In fact, if it wasn’t for the exhaustion, and the compounded sense that there will never be enough time and we will never be able to live up to all of our responsibilities, I could pretty honestly tell you that, yeah, life with two kids isn’t all that different than life with one. In fact, adjusting to Elias’s birth was a lot easier than adjusting to Finn’s. We were already parents. We already felt like we had no time of our own. So, that learning curve wasn’t as steep. As I said, in those first five months, it seemed–dare I say–easy.
But the exhaustion is there, an ever-present cloud, greying pretty much everything right now. It makes me a much less likeable person, a less attentive wife, and a less patient mother. Before Elias was born, I prided myself on that fact that I almost always kept my cool with Finn, even though he can be a high needs kiddo. I could count on one hand the times I had snapped at him. Now, I feel like I snap at him every other day. Some of that is because he’s 3, and a lot of that is because I don’t have an ounce of energy reserved for his antics.
I know I am a good momma, but I’m not really someone I’m proud of right now. I’m nowhere near the best version of myself, and I feel pretty guilty about that.
And marriage after two kids? See the above comment about not being the best versions of ourselves. Luckily, we’ve been giving each other as much grace as our patience will muster. Sona recognizes how weary I am, and she’s trying really hard to compensate. But, of course, she’s exhausted, too. And so, at the end of the day–and I literally mean the very end of the day, as our mom-ing and house-ing and life-ing duties don’t usually wind down until an hour or so before we both collapse into bed–we have very left for each other, right now. And that’s just something else we harbor a lot of guilt and shame about.
Also, providing semi-quality childcare for two kiddos, allowing us to maintain our careers? Not cheap. It doesn’t help that the cost of childcare makes it significantly harder for us to do the things that help us blow off steam.
I probably should have written this when I was in a better headspace. When Finn wasn’t still up, fighting bedtime two hours after we put him in his crib or Elias wasn’t on day 6 of a diaper rash that is making everyone’s lives miserable or we’d eaten dinner before 9PM. I don’t mean to scare everyone into having only one baby, but maybe, like all of those folks who tried to warn us, it’s not so terrible to have reasonable expectations of what life will be like with a toddler and a baby, at least for a while.
Today, Sona told me “you cry all the time and you look like a zombie.” She’s not wrong. Ironically, one of the things I cry about pretty much constantly (like at least 3 times a week, is this normal?) is that our kids are growing up so quickly and all of this tiredness and weariness will, eventually, be but a distant, serotonin-clouded memory. I’m full-on Dr. Jekyll/Mr. Hyde over here. One second, I’m waxing nostalgic about this time with small babes, and the next, I’m stumbling out of bed, crying at 5AM, getting up with Elias for the third time in a night. (Hello, last night.)
I love Finn and Elias more than my career or my need to write or any other part of myself that is self-affirming, but I need those other things, too. Right now, I’m in the eye of the storm. Ask me when we’ve gotten through, and I’ll let you know how many walls are left standing.