We got home on a Friday afternoon while the older Miss A was
at daycare. The little one slept and I got to unpack all of the junk from the
hospital.
I was more relaxed and not as stressed as I was the first
time around.
I kind of knew what to do with the baby.
I told myself that things like laundry, dirty floors, dust, and
other random stuff can wait.
I kept reminding myself to slow down and not get too stressed
out. I can’t control everything.
I can’t control everything.
My house can and will be messy and it is totally OK.
My kids need their happy mama not the clean house.
These were some of the things I had to constantly remind
myself of. This time around I wanted to be smarter and kick my old self in the
butt for stressing out about all the little things that don’t matter in life.
Man, I remember the first time around feeling like a bomb that could go off at
anytime if things didn’t go according to my plan. Now though, what plan? I don’t
have any plans and I am not making any plans and to do lists. I’ll go with a
flow as they say.
The first month was somewhat easy with a new baby at home.
Alina mostly slept, ate, peed, and pooped like any other newborn. Ariela went
to daycare and kept to her routine although mommy wasn’t there to put her to
sleep most of the nights. She did get a bit jealous at times and wanted me to
help her with random stuff. After all, I’ve been around before to help her with
pretty much anything and everything she needed. Mr. V had to step up and help
more.
Mr.V took a week off as paternity leave. Well, he ended up
working the entire time he’s been home. He logged in once and answered one
email and all broke loose. People just thought he is working from home or
something and his out-of-the office reply didn’t help. WTF is wrong with
people? Paternity leave to me means the dad is staying home and helps around
the house and with the baby, while the mom recovers. In our house, it was a
complete opposite. I had to do everything myself including preparing 3 meals a
day for Mr.V while he worked. Honestly, I would feel better if he went to work
and just let me be.
Now, let’s talk about me. I was hormonal. I was fat. I was a
bit depressed. I was lost. I was emotional. The life that we all new changed
for all of us. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I loved my tiny baby with all of my
heart but just like with Ariela, those feelings became stronger with each
passing day. My feelings and rational changed too. I was staring at my little,
clueless, dependent newborn while at the same time dealing with a jealous, always-speaks-what-is-on-her
mind, attention needed kid. This topic deserves a post on its own.
My head and my emotions became my worst enemy. I kept
doubting myself and was afraid of the new territory we all entered. Will I love
both of them? Will I have a favorite? Will I still have time to spend with Ariela?
Can I be a good mom to both of them? Will Ariela accept the new baby? How do we adjust to a new life
we brought home? When can I fit into my jeans? Why do I torture myself with
these kind of questions? Will I feel lonely when I’ll be home with the baby by myself?
We survived. We had food and clean clothes. My house was
clean. I had time to shower (hallelujah) and there were even moments of free
time (and I honestly didn’t know what to do with myself during those times).
