I wonder if every new parent makes the same mistake–that of hearing all their friends’ stories about having a baby was hard to adjust to; how you get used to operating in a state of semi-wakefulness all day long; how their little one wouldn’t sleep/nurse/you-name-it–and thinks, “Oh, that won’t be my baby.”
I thought that too. I should’ve listened to my mother-in-law when she said, “Yeah right.”
Parenthood is much more difficult than I thought it was. If I’d had advanced notice of how hard it was, I might not have signed up.
It’s been over a year since I found out I was pregnant with our second baby, and on March 27 of this year, Little T was born. Since his birth there have been a lot of tears, grumbling, missed deadlines, and opportunities we’ve had to pass on because we don’t feel like schlepping everything but the kitchen sink with us. I’ve had to share my sleeping space–be it bed, couch, or recliner–with a grouchy little monster who has peed, pooped, and puked on me multiple times.
I’m glad I didn’t know how hard it was.
There are so many things I love about having a kid. I love Little T’s funny faces, watching him starting to explore the world (he’s trying to crawl now) and, most of all, I love cuddling my sleeping little boy at night. It’s so fun watching my husband, who was second of ten kids, come home and play with his little boy.
I said years ago that I never wanted my writing to come in the way of friends and family. That has been tested this year, as I’ve struggled to find time to get even the most miniscule amount of writing done. Nearly six months later, I finally have a plan that works, as long as I manage to get up at six in the morning (have I mentioned before that I’m not a morning person?)
Having a baby has been quite an adventure. I can’t wait to see where we go from here.