Ramblings of an Expectant Dad 2.0: The Power of Two

So here we are at week twenty-three and offspring number two is now the size of a mango and offspring number one had a waffle with mango slices for breakfast and honestly that whole mango-mango offspring scenario kind of weirded me out this morning.

(I… don't even know where to begin with that.)

*sigh* I know. It's a mango thing. You wouldn't understand.

(Please get help.)

Sure. In my spare time. Of which I have zero to the trillionteenth power. I think you might have gathered by now that I've had a busy summer thus far. Between dad duties, work duties, general pandemic-related family duties, dad-to-be duties, and selling house-buying house-moving duties I forget to do certain things. Like sleep, or, you know, breathe. Thankfully the human body generally handles the whole breathing thing automatically. Point being… I have a lot going on and it's hard to focus.

But…

I have another little one on the way, so I have to focus. Thankfully, most of the above is all winding down now. Work is starting to normalize with respect to my workload, we closed on the new abode and moved in this past weekend, and old abode is under contract and closing soon. Now we just have to settle in, unpack, and get back to living.  So you know what that means, right?

(You're back to stressing out over having another child?)

Winner winner chicken dinner! Yes, with life's craziness subsiding, my anxiety about becoming a dad of two children came-a-knockin'. In less than four months, I will become dad to two count 'em two living, breathing miniature human beings under the age of three.

Holyfuckholyfuckholyfuckholyfuckholyfuck.

The funny thing is, the child-rearing is actually one of the things causing me the least consternation. I know how to do this now. I literally just did it less than twenty-eight months ago. I know how to swaddle, fix a bottle, burp a baby, and have developed a high tolerance for the noxiousness that emanates from freshly hatched humans. That part doesn't actually bother me.

(Okay, we'll bite. What bothers you?)

So that whole "Terrible Twos" thing? It's a thing. A BIG thing. A big, terrible, toddler thing of titanic proportions. There are those moments when the fruit of my loins tries my patience to the very last microscopic fiber of my nerves. In those moments it is colossally difficult to keep my cool. There have been times when I haven't, and yes I regret it to the point it pains me. No parent is perfect and you're gonna have… moments. They suck. They pass. And you hope that they don't leave too much of an imprint… but they're going to happen.

Speaking of imprints: who had "dad" in the "parent from whom toddler would learn her first curse word and use it in context" pool?

(BWAAAAAAHAAAAHAAAA!!!!!!!)

*sigh*

There is something delightfully wrong with hearing your two-and-a-half-year-old daughter running around yelling "dammit."

But I digress. The point I was getting to is that this stage is every bit as difficult to handle as they say. And if you, as a parent, tell me that your child never experienced the terrible twos I will not hesitate to hurl insults involving elderberries and hamsters at you from a socially-distanced castle wall like a French knight in fictional medieval England. Because, you know, COVID and all that. And because your mother was, in fact, a hamster.

(It's just a flesh wound.)

Monty Python does make everything better, doesn't it?  But the question remains… one child will barely be out of one difficult phase when the second one enters it. It's going to take a lot to handle that. Yes, other parents do it all the time. But other parents aren't YOU. The fact that someone else does something does not in any way diminish the stress, anxiety and fear you'll experience while performing the same task. As a parent, don't EVER forget that. So yes, handling two small children will be daunting, and I worried about how I'll handle it.

And then…. The "how can I" question lands on your chest like Wile. E. Coyote just dropped an ACME anvil on you from unspeakable heights. Again, if any parent of multiple children tells you that they never asked themselves the question "how can I love another child as much as I love the first one" They are a liar liar get them a fire extinguisher because their pants are on fire.

(You can. It's just-)

I know. I KNOW. Believe me, I know that I will love my second-born as much as my first, just in a different manner. Each child will have their own personality, their own quirks, their own everything. I know I will love the next as fully as the first. I will. But… sometimes I need to remind myself of that. Because for every moment your child defies you and makes your blood boil, there are as equally many if not more moments like what happened last night.

Before I get to that, I have to backtrack just a wee bit. So with news of the new baby came an extraordinary amount of bubbling insecurity in our wee one. She can't adequately express it verbally, mind you. So she tells us by being clingy, and coming into our room at night when she feels alone and most vulnerable. Usually she wants nothing to do with daddy. That is also tough to deal with, but I can't control that and can't hold it against a two-year old. But…

After coming into our room last night and spending a good portion of the darkened hours with mommy, she climbed down and promptly walked around the bed to my side. Arms up, she whimpered "daddy."

(I'm not crying, you're crying.)

Right? I lifted her up and pulled her over to me, whence she snuggled in on my chest for me to hold her as I did when her entire body could still fit in that space. She reached around my neck and held on tight. Just for a couple of minutes, and then asked me to carry her back to her bed.

Yeah.

Those are the moments when everything else in the word disappears and there is no room for anything other than the love that you feel for your child. How can you make room for anything else, let alone the capacity to love another as much as you love your child in that moment?

The truth we all know is that you just… do. Because the room in your heart is far from finite. You don't have to make way or clear space or supplant/replace the love you feel toward one child for the other. Think of the Grinch. Remember how his heart grew two sizes that day?

That.

It will just happen.

It's science.

And when it does, I'm sure I'll look back on these anxious feelings I'm having now… and probably write a note to myself now, from my future self, telling now-self that future self thinks now-self was an idiot. Remember, now-self: This is now. What you're seeing is happening now. To paraphrase, when it comes to questioning whether or not I can love two children: let's skip this part. In fact, let's never watch this part again. Prepare to fast-forward.

(Preparing to fast forward, sir.)

Thanks for playing along, Spaceballs.

BUT….

Let's not fast forward too much. Because once this new baby comes, things in my life are going to drastically change again. Change is good, but I'm gonna take the time to enjoy some of this part of now, now. Preparing to enjoy now.

Enjoying now, sir.

To catch up on the Ramblings of an Expectant Dad 2.0, you can read Parts 1 and 2 HERE and HERE, respectively.