Two Under Three

When my oldest son was a baby, I was the Chairman of the Sunshine and Light Mommies Committee. You know the ones with their perfect babies and their over flowing joy. Even though my son was a needy one who cried more than his fair share, nursed 45 minutes on, 45 minutes off all day long, and had to stay latched on all night long or he’d wake screaming, I was happy. I was blissful. My house was perfect, I was still able to take care of myself and look put together. My baby was shiny and clean and dressed to the nines each morning. I was so in love with my firstborn that I couldn’t wait to make for him a younger sibling. I loved being a mother. I loved caring for my baby. And when he was 10 months old and my fertility came back it screamed to me to make another little precious bundle. And so we did that very month.

Unfortunately we lost that baby at 13 weeks to causes unknown. Now, some women would have taken that as a sign. They might have waited to heal emotionally from the loss. They might have waited for their older child to wean. They might have even gone so far as to see it as evidence that they were not quite ready to add baby number two to the mix. But not me! I wanted another baby and I wanted him NOW! When my son was 16 months old I became pregnant again and the pregnancy was a successful one that ended with a healthy, beautiful baby brother for my older son. I was ecstatic.

And then my husband went back to work when the baby was two weeks old. I did fine at first running here and there caring for these two little boys. Then things got hard. First, when the baby was 2 months old, I lost my full-time telecommuting job because I refused to spend at least part time in the office. I didn’t want to leave my little ones with anyone else.

Around the same time we were closing on our first home. The move, the loss of income and stress of having two under three became more than I could deal with. There were days that I thought for sure someone was playing a sick joke on me. I’d be jolted awake by a demanding toddler screaming for me to get him from his bed and for the rest of the day I’d juggle two in diapers, tandem nursing, tears and tantrums. When I’d try to get the baby down for his nap, I’d be interrupted by my older son who couldn’t stand to be apart from me for even 10 minutes. When the baby finally went to sleep, inevitably the toddler would throw a tantrum loud enough to raise the dead and the baby would start to scream along with him. During a diaper change of one child, the other child would need me. The toddler wanted to experiment with poking and pinching the baby just to see what reaction it would bring from both myself and his tiny sibling. Oh the list just goes on. I was loosing my mind.

A good friend talked with me about Postpartum Depression and I agreed to see my doctor. I was diagnosed and began taking Zoloft. It didn’t take away the stress of life with two small children, but it did help me deal with the things that were thrown my way. Eventually I weaned from the drug and my boys got a little older and things got easier.

I no longer chair the Sunlight and Light Committee. In fact, I’m not even a member these days. But things are so much better now that I know how to juggle the demands that motherhood throws my way even though there are many times more of them now that my boys have gotten older. Instead of simply trying to make it through until bedtime, I now enjoy my time with my three guys. Yes, that’s right. I now have a third son. Things got so much better that we decided to add another to the mix. And this time around had been a breeze. I learned so much from my struggles as a new mom of two that I had the tools in the place to be a happy mom of three. I wouldn’t change a thing about those early days if I could. I needed the blissful times with my oldest to reflect on when things got difficult later on. I needed the hard times after my second son was born to grow as a person and find balance in my life. Everything happens for a reason!