The Bittersweetness of Baby 2

Stephen and I are so beyond excited to welcome Little Miss into our family, but as we're nearing the finish line and staring our early July due date in the face, we're starting to get a little...nervous.

Scared?

Maybe even a little...sad?

Please don't get me wrong, we can't wait to meet Baylor.  As her nursery has come together, her closet has filled up, and her kicks have become stronger, our anticipation has grown.  We can't wait to hold her.  To kiss her.  To experience (again) those moments that flew by too quickly with Gavin.

Ah, Gavin.  There's the tinge of sadness.

You see, Gavin is the light of our lives.  I know it sounds cliche, but he is our world.  I love staring at the monitor as he's sleeping, his ratty blue lovey tucked under his head and his dinosaur binky hanging from his mouth.  I love watching him play and explore, wondering what is going through his mind as he runs from one corner of his playroom to the other, giggling and pointing.  I love finding fun things to do with him, be it special time with Mommy or special time as a family.  Stephen and I are blessed enough to go on occasional dates, and we manage to have an hour or two each day to spend as a couple, but we truly enjoy experiencing things through the excited eyes of our headstrong baby boy.  So there's a little bit of sadness that our time with just him will be coming to an end, and Stephen and I both agree that the thing we are most nervous about is finding time to make Gavin feel just as loved and just as special as he is now, even once our attention is split.

Our nervousness stems from the fact that Gavin himself was not an easy newborn.  As I've shared before, he was a terrible sleeper, had severe colic, started teething early -- you name it.  We were walking zombies trying to figure our way through the newborn stage.  But with a toddler, being a walking zombie will not be an option.  I honestly do believe that Baylor will be easier -- Baylor has to be easier! -- in part because she's been so mellow in my tummy, and in part because Stephen and I have navigated this territory before.  We know what to do about baby acne.  We have gas drops on hand, and a full can of Nutramigen in the cabinet (just in case).  The Ferber Method of sleep training?  We are experts.  Gavin made us jump through all sorts of hoops, so now we feel more prepared to handle whatever Baylor throws our way.  But a part of me also thinks Baylor's newborn phase will be easier because there just won't be time to dwell over how tired we are.  (I think it's also the main reason this pregnancy has been easier -- who has time to slow down and lament the aches and pains of pregnancy when you have a cutie pie little boy tugging at your jeans constantly?)  Or maybe this will be every bit as difficult as it was with Gavin -- but at least this time we know there's a light at the end of the tunnel.  A routine will form eventually.  Gavin will settle into his new role as a big brother the same way we will settle into our new role as parents of two.  The best gift you can give a child is a sibling, and we are doing just that.  Gavin will not hate us for bringing his baby sister into the world.  (Not forever, at least.)

Anyway, this nervousness -- this sadness, even -- it's nothing new.  I vividly remember driving to the hospital to be induced with Gavin and Stephen asking me if I was excited.  Of course I was excited, but it came with a healthy dose of bittersweetness.  Until then, it had just been me and Stephen.  If we wanted to see a movie on a Friday night, we went to see a movie on a Friday night.  We slept late on Sundays, made a big breakfast, and then walked it off at the Loveland Bike Trail before heading to the grocery store to pick up something fun to make for dinner that evening.  We were free to do whatever we wanted, whenever we wanted.  I knew that would all change when Gavin arrived -- and we were prepared for that change, and wanted that change -- but we also loved each other so much that we weren't sure how it would affect our relationship to suddenly introduce a tiny being that so desperately needed both of our attention.  Would we have time for each other still?  The answer, we now know, is a resounding YES.  In fact, my love for Stephen has grown exponentially as I've seen him as a father.  Our relationship now is certainly different than it was in our pre-baby days -- but the sleepless nights, colic, and difficult teething spells have ultimately made our marriage stronger.  We've learned to cope with situations that, at times, have seemed insurmountable.

Similarly, I'm sure our relationship with Gavin will change.  He will still be the light of our lives and we will still shower him with so many kisses his giggles simply won't be able to keep up.  Stephen will still read "Pat the Bunny" to him and show him how to feel Daddy's scratchy face, just like the story instructs.  I'll still stare at the monitor in the middle of the night, wondering what I did to find myself blessed with the cutest little boy in the entire universe.  But after I do that, I'll scroll over to the other screen, where my daughter will (hopefully) be peacefully snoozing as well, and I'll marvel at this family Stephen and I have created.  Things change, and we grow, and it's scary and bittersweet and a little bit sad -- but when everything is said and done, when the dust has settled, it's a pretty incredible thing to be a parent.