Baby number two: the Stretching of my heart.

It’s mid-afternoon and I’m crying again. I’ve snuck into his room to wake him from his sleep but instead, I’m just standing here watching his perfect little face and that mussed up bit of hair at the back that won’t ever stay down… and I’m just crying. Of course, I could blame the hormones, and they do have a (big) part to play, but I also know it’s more than that. It’s grieving. For this moment, for this time, for the soon-to-be-end our little trio that has travelled the world together and has come so far in the two years we’ve been a three – because I know it won’t ever be the same again. 

In my rational moments (which if I’m honest, are much rarer these days) I know I’m being ridiculous and I berate myself for my selfishness. “This is not a loss,” I think to myself, “no one has died, no one has suffered – think of all those Mums waiting for just one baby and you have almost two… what are you complaining about?” But this feeling is not rational. It’s pure emotion, and in this moment, it’s very real. 

No one prepared me for this feeling I have, this feeling that came only weeks after seeing those little pink lines appear. Immediately after the joy that this was really happening, the giddiness of carrying this secret excitement, this feeling settled in. This need to smother my baby boy with love, to kiss him daily to reiterate all the reasons why I love him so much. I suddenly needed him in a whole different way. And I needed him to know how much I love him. We’d lie in bed together and tears would roll down my cheeks and he’d look at me confused… why was I sad? Why was mama crying?

I wish I could explain my Yuki. I’m sad because you have been everything I could ever want. You have always been my sunshine boy, the one who lights up the world wherever go… but you are also the one who made me a mother. Who taught me more about myself than I knew was even there. Who stretched my soul to new lengths, tested boundaries I didn’t know existed and introduced me to the new version of myself. You made me this person. And it’s because of you that I want to do this again – and that I feel like I can. I want you to know that. That it was never about you not being enough – you were the inspiration. 

This is what they don’t tell you about being pregnant the second time: that you will feel things other than joy. You’ll feel a new kind of exhaustion, different from the cocktail of sleep deprivation and anxiety that you had in the first year of motherhood. You’ll feel nostalgic for your first pregnancy, for the naps you took, for the leisurely time you had. For the amount of bonding and attention, you could give to your bump. That the “second trimester energy hit” doesn’t exist when you have a toddler. That some days it’s so hard to parent and you’re so brittle and fragile that something as simple as him not getting dressed will cause your collapse. And the guilt. They don’t tell you about the guilt. That you’ll hate yourself for not being able to bend down, and bounce on the trampoline and carry him like you used to. That you’ll constantly feel like a shitty half-parent because the other half is already being used to create a sibling. Or the tears, and the feeling that everything is changing, and somehow that’s scary even if this is a change you wanted, you invited, and you planned for. 

I know now that this is all normal. That even creeping on my own son and crying as I watch him sleep isn’t as crazy as it sounds. This is motherhood. The push and pull, the high and low. The feeling. All the feelings. Maybe it’s the heart stretching itself out some more, making way for the new love that’s already growing there?  

But back to this moment. As if on cue, there are strong, swift kicks in my belly that bring me back to reality. Hi baby. I know you’re feeling this too, and yes this makes me feel even more guilty. Because you are so wanted, so already loved by all three of us. I know that my heart will crack open again, that you will rebuild and reshape me as a mother of two. That sometimes I’ll feel like I need a second body for all the love I’ll feel. I do know that. But right now I need to feel this because it was that same love that I have for Yuki that brought you here. I’ll see you soon, my baby.

Words by Sarah Tarca.
@tarca
@gloss.etc

Image by Amelia Fullarton