Photo by Abby Sue
When I was pregnant with Talitha, I spent my days reflecting on what I could do differently this time around. As my bump grew, so did my list of baby #2 resolutions.
Wear the baby more. Surely this would be a necessity with two children under two years of age. I added a soft wrap carrier to my baby registry.
Get better about nursing on-the-go. My breastfeeding experience with Zianne was a successful but all-consuming experience requiring many pillows and an hour in a private room for every feeding. Surely I could convince Baby #2 to use a nursing cover?
Dabble in essential oils. Why? Because they were all the rage. Surely fennel seed oil could increase my already-sufficient milk supply.
My entry into motherhood was actually a fairly smooth one. I had a healthy labor and delivery, a good nursing experience, and other than a lot of crying on our second day home from the hospital, my hormones seemed to balance out fairly quickly. Zianne slept well, my body bounced back, and we were supported and encouraged by family and friends during our first year of parenthood.
But with my second baby, I could do better. I had weaknesses as a mother. I had room for improvement. And with two children just 21 months apart, a list of goals and resolutions would keep me on track. Baby-wearing. Nursing cover. Essential oils. Check, check, check.
I did wear Talitha a little more but abandoned the soft wrap by month three. Nursing was a little more efficient and mobile, but I still preferred feeding in the comfort of my own bedroom. I used a few drops of essential oils here and there, but the bottles remain mostly full, neglected now on a bathroom shelf.
And you know what? Oils or no oils, my transition to two children was great. We quickly fell into new patterns as a family of four. We moved to a new state when Talitha was just a few months old. We adapted. We supported one another. I continued to mother to best of my ability, and I watched my children develop and grow and laugh and play while my baby carriers hung idly in the closet.
And here I am pregnant with baby #3, and this time I don’t have a list. I don’t have goals. Instead, I trust myself as a mom. As we bring a third child into the world, I hope things will go more smoothly than I can even imagine. But I am also prepared for hardships and growing pains, and I know we will figure things out when there are bumps along the road. I know my heart will enlarge, my love for all three of my children will grow, my marriage will be tested and proved, my patience will be tried, my schedule will adapt, and in the end, everything will be just fine. I am done with my attempts to be better. I am not going to strive to do more or less. I am just going to be the mother I was made to be.
Baby #3, I promise you this… I welcome you with open arms and an eager heart. I am not a perfect mom, but I am pretty good one. We will navigate this bumpy world together, and until that time, I solemnly resolve to have no resolutions… none at all.
