Second Thoughts

(or, rather Thoughts on a Second)

Well here we are, less than a week from my Official Due Date, and I've got an already-week-old newborn laying next to me on the bed.

(Turns out all that week 37 nesting wasn't jumping the gun, after all.)

I'll get around to Little Brother's Birth Story in the next month or so, but in the meantime I wanted to ruminate a bit on how The Second Time Is Different (At Least for Me).

First of all, let me assure you, Gentle Readers, that I absolutely do love Little Brother as much as I love TLG; I do not see him as a threat to TLG's resources; and basically everything everyone told me about how It Was All Going to Be Okay, was totally true.

So thank goodness for that!

Now that we have that out of the way, the main thing I've noticed is how much easier it is to enjoy the newborn stage.  I'll admit: I was kind of dreading having a newborn again.  I kept repeating the phrase, "Boring torture" to describe my recollection of the experience.  Fortunately for me that's not really the case this time around- due to a combination of factors, I think.  I'm just so much more chill, because I've been here, survived that- already learned all the diapering tricks, the nursing hacks, and how to recognize the all-importance Emergence of Patterns.  So I can spend less time freaking out about The Right Way To Do Things, and more time just appreciating his ultra-soft-skin and long, mobile toes.

The other thing is that, in retrospect, I'm pretty sure I was suffering from Postpartum Anxiety with TLG.  At the time Nathan and I were on High Alert for me to develop Postpartum Depression (given my history with depression in general it didn't seem like a stretch), but I didn't even know that PPA was a thing.  I just thought all parents felt like I felt- that literally any time I didn't have eyes on my child he was probably dead and it was all my fault.  I thought that all new parents would lay in bed, terrified to move because if they got up and checked then the baby would actually be dead, and not just... probably dead.

Yeah.  I thought that malarkey was normal.  That is not normal.  And the fact that I thought it was normal just goes to show how screwed up my brain had gotten.

I do not feel that way now, thank all the stars.  I think I now have actually normal levels of anxiety- I only check to see if he's breathing like once, maybe twice a day, instead of constantly.  I can sleep at night (in two hour increments, sure, but I will take it) rather than having a hideous "my child died in his sleep" movies playing on permanent repeat in my brain.

It makes for a much more relaxing experience all-around.

Pride (Words for a Memorial Gathering)

(As always, this is what I wrote, but not necessarily what I said.)

***

When I was young child, I felt sorry for the kids who had two "Grandmas".  How confusing it must be, to have the same name for two different people, always having to throw on a modifier to clarify who you were talking about.  I took smug pride in my possession of an "Oma", obviously the superior arrangement- just as German was obviously the superior ancestry.

Oma and I got along brilliantly when I was small: she taught me about important things like proper silverware etiquette, the best kind of bread to feed ducks, and how to behave in a sauna.  She would spend hours cooking and baking with me, or watching the dramatic performances I dragged my little brother into, or swimming with me in pools and lakes.  She would blow bubbles for me to chase, and we were special friends.  Our relationship was a simple one, and easy.  We loved one another.

As I got older, and began the transition into adulthood, it became apparent that I had a lot in common with Oma- and that commonality lead to, shall we say, friction.  Both of us smart, both of us strong-willed, both of us so certain we were right.  I struggled between wanting so badly for her to be proud of me, and not wanting to care at all what she thought.  She would bait me, and I would overreact.  Our relationship was a complex one, and not easy.  We loved one another.

I got older still, undeniably a woman by anyone's measure.  I brought Nathan into the family and I swear- I swear that was the best thing I ever did for my relationship with Oma.  She adored him, and her adoration of him made her think better of my decision-making abilities.  And I was more confident in my self and my life choices, less likely to take offense where none was intended, and more able to laugh things off.  Our relationship became mature, and good.  We loved one another.

And then, almost four years ago, I had my son, TLG.  Oma was getting older, more physically fragile- she couldn't play with her youngest great-grandson in the garden as she had with me, but she could- and did- admire him as he wore her own son's handed-down lederhosen; could give him little cars to play with; could blow bubbles for him to chase.  Their relationship was a simple one, and easy.  They loved one another- and it enriched my love for her.  I think seeing me as a mother enriched her love for me, as well.  Our mutual respect deepened, and we were proud to be called similar.

The last time I saw Oma, she was in a garden, surrounded by people she loved, and who loved her.  TLG was using Opa's cane as a wizard's staff, magically "turning" us into various animals.  Opa became an elephant, Nathan a newt- but then TLG turned to Oma (better known to him as Ur-Uma), and said, "Poof!  You're a lion!" and she smiled and laughed, tired from her recent medical ordeals, but delighted by his choice.

A lion, I thought.  How appropriate.  Not just because she was born under the sign of Leo, but because she was strong and fierce like a lioness, protecting and providing for her family, her pride.  Queen of her surroundings by sheer force of will- and the ability to roar when necessary.

She is gone now, which adds some complexity back into our relationship, but the love remains as strong as ever.

As does the pride.

Mini-Memorial

We are getting ready for bed, and I am explaining to TLG that tomorrow we are going to up to Olympia, to see Ur-Opa.

"I think he must be very sad," says TLG.

"Yes, he is," says Nathan.

"He will need a big hug," I add. "You can tell him you're sorry that Ur-Oma died, and that you love him. That might help him feel a little okay."

I go on to say that we will be dressed up nicely, because we will be going to a Memorial Service, where we will share memories and stories about Ur-Oma.

"Why?" he asks.

"Because that is what you do, when someone you love dies," I say. "You tell stories about them, and remember, and it helps with the sadness."

"Me too?" he asks.

"You can if you want to," I respond. "Do you have a story about Ur-Oma you'd like to share?"

"Yes," he says, with all the innate, unflappable confidence of a 3-year-old.

"What story would you like to share?"

He hesitates. "Um," he says, obviously thinking hard. "Ur-Oma died,"

"Yes she did," I say. "But did you want to share a memory about her?" His little brow furrows, and he continues to think.

"Hugs," he says at last.

"She gave you hugs?" I ask, just to clarify. "And you liked them?"

"Yes!" He beams up at me, pleased with his answer, and my comprehension. I smile at him, stroking his hair and thinking, it took me nearly two hours to write the tribute I plan on delivering tomorrow... but his is probably better.

Nesting With My (Big) Baby Bird

This weekend was devoted to capital-N Nesting.  Like, I even wrote it on the calendar, you guys- that's how serious about it I was; no work appointments today, by golly- I have a car seat to clean and install!

I made a whole To Do List, which is not in and of itself particularly surprising (To Do Lists are How I Roll), but I did have some doubts about my ability to get all the way through it, given my Extremely Pregnant and Slightly Anemic State.  But I did get through it, Gentle Readers- I did!  Everything on the list got checked off!  And what's more, I didn't do it alone- Nathan helped quite a bit, but (more importantly to this particular blog entry) TLG helped, too.

One of my main tasks was to wash all of the newborn-to-three-month-old-clothes that I'd saved from TLG's infancy (/since received in anticipation of Little Brother's arrival), and TLG stood right there with me, happily transferring all the tiny little outfits from the hamper into the washing machine, one after the other.  And then he later transferred them into the dryer, and finally back into the clean-clothes hamper  He is delighting in his impending role of Big Brother, and it makes me so, so happy to see him so happy.  I can only hope the delight will survive Little Brother's actual arrival...

We are now 100% ready for Little Brother to arrive, at least from a purely pragmatic point of view: car seat installed, bassinet set up, clothes washed, diapers and wipes ready and waiting.  Really, when it comes right down to it, everything else is gravy, and since TLG got himself born at just shy of 39 weeks, I felt getting The Essentials set up before the end of week 37 was just good sense (please no one laugh too hard if Little Brother decides not to make an appearance until after his official due date...).  There are other things I'd like to get done before D-Day (that's D for Delivery, you know) but I'm not going to sweat it if I don't get around to them.  (#parentingveteran, amiright?)

Now, in terms of emotional preparedness... that's another topic, entirely.  I find it interesting that I seem to have greater affection for this unborn child than I did for TLG at the same stage, a feeling which I can only credit to TLG already expressing his pure and uncomplicated love for Little Brother.  He hugs my belly, kisses it, giggles delightedly when he feels kicks or sees movement, and talks excitedly about how Little Brother will be born this month!  I see his love, and of course I love what my child loves (hence my re-found ability to discuss dinosaurs at great length), so therefore I love this newest uterine pirate in a way I was incapable of fathoming during my pregnancy with TLG.  Plus, you know... after two miscarriages I believe I was holding myself at a Bit of a Protective Reserve, whereas now I know it's entirely possible this baby will make it!  Woo!

But even as I'm feeling all this warmth and affection for Little Brother, at the same time I also have very real concerns about my ability to love him as much as I love TLG, once Little Brother becomes a reality rather than an idea.  Intellectually I understand that hormones will eventually kick in and I'll love him unreservedly, just as I did TLG, but my heart worries I'll only ever see him as a threat to TLG's resources, and never be able to bond properly.

I'm told this is a common (and entirely unfounded) concern.

Here's hoping.