The 1-to-2 Transition is Harder Than it Looks
It’s been a while since I put anything up here. Right around the time we found out we were pregnant with Jordyn the world went to crap. So instead of writing about how we were navigating working from home with a preschooler, the interesting activities we were doing to keep her entertained, I was hovering over a toilet bowl surviving what I thought would be a few weeks. Fun times.
Anyway, now we are two months into being parents of two and it has been sunshine and rainbows. JUST KIDDING. It has been rough. I went in thinking we were ready. We’ve done this before….I lined up the night nurse, I scheduled my c-section….there would be no surprises. The universe seriously loves playing jokes on me.
The recovery from the c-section just felt harder this time around. Maybe it was because I couldn’t just lay around all day, maybe I forgot how hard it actually was to recover from this major abdominal surgery. That forgetfulness has pretty much colored the entire first two months.
The sleep deprivation hit harder. The anger and anxiety were multiplied by the fact that I had been isolated since March. My parents and my sister who literally drove down the night I gave birth to Dylan, weren’t able to come until weeks later. My sister actually still hasn’t met Jordyn.
Jordyn isn’t a carbon copy of Dylan. The swaddles, formula, carriers, and seats that worked for Dylan have done zilch for Jordyn. Dylan and I used to sit on the couch and nap for hours, Jordyn pretty much has to be in her room. There are complications with dropping Dylan off at school with work and nap schedules. Nothing is easy.
Friends who are already parents to multiples tried to ease my anxiety. “She will nap on the go.” “I wore [number 2] all the time.” It didn’t help.
I spent more time asking myself why I did this to us than I did connecting to Jordyn. Then on Halloween night while Dylan and Josh watched the magic show we signed up for, I found myself sobbing on the ground holding Jordyn because she wouldn’t stop crying and wouldn’t go to sleep. All I wanted to do was put her in her crib and walk away. Josh came to help and I continued sobbing in my closet until I could pull myself together to go downstairs and sit with Dylan.
The next day, I texted my therapist and asked for help. That was and has been the hardest thing I have had to learn to do this go-round. Ask for help. In my mind, this was our second go, I shouldn’t have needed help. But having one baby doesn’t make you an expert or any less exhausted. Help has come in the form of therapy, medicine for me, medicine for Jordyn’s reflux, and our family and friends.
I’ve heard “it gets better” and in truth, 9 weeks in some things have gotten better. But each day brings something new and I try really hard to keep in mind that my schedule-thriving brain has to be patient.
I am not naive enough to think that the chaos will suddenly dissipate, but here’s hoping that it will at a minimum become more bearable.
She’s cute though
This does make it worth it though
Big sister in action
