Coffee and amazon prime: How we survived our first week at home with two kids.
She needs a sibling they said, you’ll be great they said.
Fast forward to the end of a pregnancy, that I swore would never ever end, and then diving in and conquering life with two children. I never saw myself having more than two, we have said time and time again this second baby girl completes our family. MARK MY WORDS, the incubator is closed. There is a reason people use the phrase “we don’t want to be out numbered.”
My birth experience this time was actually even smoother than the first time. Which I personally feel was well deserved because the last three weeks of my pregnancy were like sme sick game of “real or false labor.” More on that in “Sex and Pineapples: A Birth Story.” But, any who, a human existed my body, for the second, and LAST TIME, and here we all are. Living, breathing, and somehow surviving, hell, you might even say thriving.
My husband brought my very confused eldest daughter to the hospital. To meet her sister, to get out of the house, to see me, and to save his sanity. It was terrible, it was wonderful, it was real fuckin life y’all. Being stuck in the house with a two year old who doesn’t get why mommy is at the doctor with that baby for two days is a hell of a task. He was exhausted. Being in a hospital with a newborn, boobie crazed, energy sucker, also not the easiest of tasks. Especially when my rock, the keeper of my sanity, is at home, with a tiny dictator.
This is the longest time I had ever slept away from my husband and first born. Ever. It was a strange thing. Not that I had much time to think about exactly how strange it was because I had a little love to focus on. 100% of my time and energy to her, for the last time little did she know.
So, I birth this person. They send me home. I should be a pro by now right?
I read something once that said something about giving birth being like getting into a car accident, and taking care of another person who was also in the accident. To this is say, yes. You technically have both experienced a “trauma” my body had been torn, tattered, stretched to its limits, bleeding, leaking and now I am tasked to take care of this small person who was BORN. Like what the fuck, she was born, how tragic is that? She was shoved from her cozy little sack of security and nourishment and her she is looking at me.
It’s fucking hard. It’s harder when you know what’s coming. Bracing yourself for the pain of the latch (in the beginning anyway). Preparing yourself for the process of healing, again. Friends, when you know they crash is coming and you tense up instead of letting your body react naturally, it can get messy. Yes, the knowing helps, but it doesn’t make it any “easier.”
My husband stayed home the first week, thank the Lord in heaven. He was on toddler detail, and me? You can just call me Bessy. To insure my supply was off to a good start, I just basically have a tiny little boss baby that tells me when and where to lift my top and I listen. And it works, guys, it’s worth it. You should check out my stash. Anyways. It’s tough because it takes a lot of energy AND it takes understanding from the other people around. Enter: my two year old, who I had been off with giving my undivided attention to for 8 days leading up to baby sisters entrance into the world because, well, false labor an emotional break down.
She doesn’t get it, it’s hard. She can see this little person is not going anywhere and she gets milk from momma. “Mommas like a cow” according to my husband, which resulted in said two year old trotting around the living room yelling “moooooooo Momma, Momma’s got the milk!” So, she totally has a grasp on that.
But, I found myself expecting her to be more mature, like she was just gonna grown up because she was a big sister now. Because she looks so big and grown up next to this fresh baby. Because she KNOWS what she should and shouldn’t do. She KNOWS how to behave. Yea, you can go ahead and laugh now. Wtf, right? She’s two guys, she doesn’t know anything. She knows she wants momma and daddy’s attention and she doesn’t care about this little creature that used to live inside mommy (creepy) and now lives here. She has actually said “what’s a baby doing here?” more than once.
When she decided to spike a fever the day before my husband went back to work I’m like, touché, you did it. He stayed home for two more days so we could keep them separate because everyone knows, the number one rule for babies in the first month is, no fever.
There we were, still all four of us cozy AF in our Tosa ranch, no escape from each other because it’s the middle of a Wisconsin winter. Jesus help us. Plus, the number one thing I hate doing, telling the big girl no, because of the little. “Don’t touch the baby. Don’t come too close to the baby. You’re sick stay away from the baby.” Why was Jesus testing me? Why Satan?
Anyways, we survived, we ordered literally everything from Amazon Prime, and at least two pots of coffee were brewed a day. COFFEE all the coffee! And a service that you can order almost anything from and it will show up on your doorstep two hours later. What a time to be alive...
The rest of the week I was home with the girls. Literally doing what ever it took to survive.
Dancing with my two year old with a baby latched to my body.
Holding the newborn for the entirety of my toddlers nap because naps are the essence of survival.
Accepting the food that everyone sent graciously.
Denying visitors when it felt like too much, or my toddler spikes a fever and we are on quarantine.
JUST SURVIVE SOMEHOW!
Sleep is not a thing, sleep is something you used to do, in your old life, like wearing heels and taking shots, just accept this.
Also, don't feel bad about it. We all have our own ways of adjusting and you have to do what is right for you unapologetically.
I still feel like I need to work on having time that’s just for the big one, but everyone is relatively clean and fed and happy. Tandem naps have happened, I don’t even want to type that because I feel like I am jinxing it. I feel like I am getting back to myself and honestly, I’m just super fucking pumped to not be pregnant. Lord.
Days will be long. They will be hard. There will be swearing, and caffeine and alcohol consumption. But, this absolutely beautiful mess of a blessed life. Damn is it worth it.
P.S. This blog totally had the potential to be called Starbucks and Amazon Prime, but neither of us had the money or motivation for twice a day Starbucks runs, bless y'all that leave your house for ovepriced coffee and return home with it everyday.
Shauna Hyler, mommy of two beautiful girls! Working, blogging, and adventuring with the hubby and my sweet girls.