motherhood,  Parenting,  toddlers

New Baby, New Mom

(Not a pregnancy announcement. I don’t know why I feel such a need to issue that disclaimer, aside from the small voice in my head screaming “stop traumatizing people who are considering NFP.” Which, by the way, works, and by that I mean it makes you aware of your fertility as a couple, causes you to have serious conversations with your spouse regularly, along the lines of are we ready for another baby? Have you slept in the last 3 weeks and can I gingerly stroke your arm? And my personal favorite Are you sure you should have that third margarita, darling, since we’re seeking to avoid?) all while in no way minimizing the enormous responsibility and gift of being co-creative with the Creator. End disclaimer.)

Whew. Exhaustive PSA aside, as I was sipping a piping hot espresso shoving scrambled eggs into my 6-month-old’s mouth this morning whilst she perched on my lap at breakfast, I got to thinking. I thought to myself, self, you don’t really mother this third born the way you mothered your first.

And thank God for that, amiright?

I have thee most vivid memory of leaping across my parent’s kitchen table and slapping a spoonful of Death by Chocolate trifle out of my mother’s hand as she hovered dangerously near Sir Joseph’s tiny, 9-month-old lips. MOTHER! I screamed, WHAT IF HE HAS A TREE NUT ALLERGY?! THERE ARE WALNUTS IN THAT!!!!!

And not to minimize the real and horrifying dangers of life-threatening allergies in the slightest, neither my family nor Dave’s has any history of food allergies, the likeliness that my baby was going to swell up and immediately stop breathing were relatively slim. Still, I quite literally slapped my mother’s hand away as if she were spooning rat poison into his mouth, leaving her a little stunned but primarily amused (I presume, mother) because she, the mother of 7 healthy children, had no apparent business trying to sneak her grandson a bite of chocolate deliciousness.

Fast forward nearly 4 years and I’m the one exposing my precious to highly-allergic table foods well before the 12 month safety threshold, because I think I read somewhere that the sooner the better in terms of preventing some food allergies, and also because I’m sitting at the breakfast table in my pajamas, coffee in one hand and laptop opened nearby and I’m giving instructions to the 3 year old about proper table etiquette and somebody pooped and the baby would like some food and okay, here you go, open wide sweetheart!

I was chatting with a friend yesterday about how differently we mother our third born children, and how much we wish we could go back and tell our freshly-minted momselves: it’s going to be okay. This is going to get so much easier. and most especially: you’re going to be a totally different mom in just a few short years. 

We each of us have in our possession a third baby who sleeps and eats like a dream. Never fussy for no reason, never protesting naps or bedtimes, happy just to be included in the day-to-day of busy family life.

I wondered aloud whether we’d both been blessed with supernaturally calm children for our third go-round, as kind of a cosmic consolation for our, ahem, spirited first-borns and HIIIIIIGH needs second borns, and then I wondered if maybe it was we who had calmed down.

I’ve been doing this professionally for close to 5 years now, counting pregnancy, and while I’m by no means an expert in my field, I have learned a thing or two about what constitutes grounds for freaking the freak out and what is simply another speed bump on the long and winding road of parenthood. So while my kids are regularly presenting me with new and challenging scenarios, especially the highly mobile pair, I’m a little less prone to panicky google sessions and frantic phone calls to my husband about a weird rash, a strangely pitched cry or an afternoon of nap-strking organized by the local (and highly entitled) toddler union.

These days I’m more likely to shrug my metaphorical shoulders, load ‘erybody up in the mini and drive aimlessly to a neutral location to attempt to reset everybody’s moods and salvage the remains of the day. Super Target anyone? Or just a new-to-us park where the novelty might defuse the rivalry running rampant in my ranks that afternoon.

So new moms? Take heart. You’re going to get better at this. And things that struck you as horrifying and overwhelming and devastating? They’ll still be there. And while there will always be x-factors of an unknown varietal, particularly with your oldest guinea pig, you will so get a handle on this baby thing. If anything you’ll become stupidly confident in your ability to make more babies, and thereby find yourself perpetually behind the procreative eight ball and honestly, the stuff of life and living will wear you down and wear you out and make you more yourself, purified by the experiences and the hardships and the heartaches and yes, the good stuff too.

And one day you’ll find yourself absentmindedly rubbing anti-aging moisturizing cream onto somebody’s diaper rash and the only thing that will stop and give you pause will be the price tag of what you’re slathering on the baby bottom at hand, and not whether it’s organic or hypoallergenic or tested for use on infants under the age of 2. And then you’ll shrug and keep rubbing it in, mentally high-fiving yourself for remembering to put anything at all on that poor little butt.

Babies don’t really get any easier the more you have. It’s you who grows in confidence, experience, and, frankly, indifference to what you formerly perceived as ALL THE THINGS that mattered so very much when offspring were just a hazy concept and your expanding waistline was all you had to show for your parenting experience.

So, to all my inquisitive fellow grocery getters, imma let you in on a little secret: Yes, I do in fact have my hands full. But let me assure you, when there was only one in the cart, he was perched in an organic bamboo-cotton card cover pulled from the massive depths of my plastic-coated diaper bag, retrieved and installed only after a healthy slathering of anti-bacterial hand sanitizer had been applied to every square inch of cart surface. I also had a baby carrier stuffed in there, lest he become dissatisfied and prefer to ride upon my bosom for the duration of our stressful foray into the store.

My hands were just as full when my car held only one car seat. It’s my heart and my brain that have enlarged now, and there’s more room for error, more room for fun, and more room for patience to manage the additional children you see.


  • the DeLisland

    As I read this I glanced out into the backyard to see my 5 kids playing, the oldest (9) was making a bow and arrows out of a stick for the youngest (1) who was happily eating sand in the sandbox. 8 years ago I would have thought “horror and worms and eyes being poked out and BLOOD!!” Today, I thought “awesome, they’re playing together” all that to say, you are so very right!

  • Mitzi

    “My hands were just as full when my car held only one car seat. It’s my heart and my brain that have enlarged now, and there’s more room for error, more room for fun, and more room for patience to manage the additional children you see.” BRILLIANT!!!

  • Ana

    This is great! I was that girl too with the cart cover… Now my 7month baby rides on the handles of the cart while her brother (4) and sister (2) “drive”

  • Lily

    I love this!! I only have two, but watching my friends and their first born makes me giggle at how sanitized, by the bookish, no table food, on a developmental time table we were with our first! Baby number two has turned out just fine so far, and I can only image if/when baby three happens how much better it gets 😉

    Ps-love the disclaimer!! That third margarita gets me every time! 😉 ha!

  • Kris

    My sister and I laugh about this very thing all the time. We had our “firsts” and our “seconds” together. And then our “thirds” came along a little bit apart. Our first borns never saw the inside of a fast food place until they were WELL into toddler-hood, and then only on very special, supervised occasions. My second gnawed on a French fry at about 7 months. By the time the 3rd came along, I was a professional and weathered my husband’s 9 months deployment (two weeks after the baby was born) like nobody’s business! I always tell younger mothers who are pregnant with their 2nd that they will look back at their “first-time mom” self and laugh at that stupid girl!!


    I hadn’t really thought of myself as a different mother this go-round until now. (You’re right though — I guess we can’t help but mother differently once we’ve been through it a couple of times.) In my case, it’s not so much about going from freaking out at every little thing to not freaking out, because I’m somebody who would insist that everything is fine! we’re FINE! even as the walls crumbled around me. I just don’t tend to freak out. (Which does sometimes make me worry that I’d miss something important.)

    But. With my first I felt guilty and worn down all the time. I felt like I could never do enough, never get it quite right. His crying was like a weight, pulling me downward. I was feeling low, low, low. This time, while I have my bad days, I don’t feel compelled to get everything right. I know I can’t be everything to everyone, and I’m fine with that. So Isaac’s crying doesn’t get to me like Breck’s did. I know that babies cry — they just do! Now, though I’m probably more of a neglectful mother then I was way back then, I feel SO much less guilt. If everybody has a reasonably clean bottom and a relatively full tummy, we’re fine. Really fine.

  • Christine

    Such an excellent post, and so true. Yesterday, I was having this sort of zen moment with the kids, and realized, “hey – I’m really coming into my own as a mother. I’ve *got* this.” And yeah, my third baby is such a dream as well!

  • Natalie

    Great post! I love thinking back on how much my mothering has changed from the first year or two of my oldest son’s life… I am so much better off now that the perfectionist, control freak, first-time mother in me has been left in the dust.

  • Justine Rauch

    Such a good post! We’re expecting our first next month and less than 48 hours ago I was panicking about being a first-time mom. Your words are uber reassuring. So excited!

  • Nell @ Whole Parenting Family

    BAHAHAHA–least he need my bosom!!!!! I love this and love you. I too slapped away death by ice cream from my father with our firstborn at 11 months, “Dad, THAT’s SUGAR!!!!” I’m still a stickler about some things, but so many others have fallen by the wayside. What really matters stays; what was an idyllic first time parent maneuver is gone!

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *