Baby 2

I now find myself staring down another birthday, not for myself, but for my middle child. As crazy as it seems that my eldest is now a five year old, it is crazier still that my younger son is set to turn four in two days. They are but 13 months apart, and yet worlds apart in personality.
When DS1 was just 5 months old, we discovered I was pregnant again, and due shortly after his first birthday. We had spent a great deal of time deliberating over the perfect boy name for our first son and decided we had finally found it. Imagine our predicament, then, when we discovered we were now expecting another little boy in just a few short months. Names were suggested, and names were discarded. A list was made of possibilities, but nothing just reached out and "grabbed" us like Micah had. So our little baby remained nameless until 2 days before we were scheduled to be induced because he still hadn't made an appearance. Instead, we referred to him as "Baby 2".
DS2 has been distinctive from day 1. He was tongue-tied when he was born, which set off it's own little whirlwind of problems. He could not nurse because he was unable to latch on, and we were not informed that he would be able to after the skin was clipped.
DS2 rolled over the first time at 6 weeks old. His doctor didn't believe me. We thought it was a fluke thing, until he started doing it consistently, and rolling both ways. He was climbing onto the furniture before he could even crawl, and has been moving ever since. He would go through phases when he was little of fits and tantrums, from the age of only a few months old. We discovered it was connected with his level of mobility and independence. He would be extremely fussy, but then he learned to sit up on his own and the house quieted down. Pretty soon he'd grow weary of just sitting and would become fussy again. As soon as he learned to crawl, peace resumed. But then even that was not enough and the whining began again. Walking was the last mountain to conquer and with it mastered, a level of calmness reigned. But life is never truly calm in a home with 2 little boys under 2 years.

Any new mom can tell you that after having a baby, your emotions go a little haywire. Some women are left with only minimal ups and downs and are able to deal quite easily. Others are on the opposite end of the spectrum and find themselves spiraling out of control. The rest find themselves somewhere between the two. Imagine these emotions are a roller coaster. Some women ride a relatively calm coaster with a few twists and turns, but nothing too dramatic. The less fortunate find themselves thrown for a loop...literally. Upside downs, loop-d-loops, hills and steep drops. When you finally are able to step off the coaster, you may be sick to your stomach, or in the postpartum sense, in a state of recovery.
Now, imagine you've just stepped off one roller coaster, only to find yourself entering another one, this one more fierce and dramatic. The tension doubles, the nausea increases and nerves are shot.
This is precisely what I faced after my second baby was born. Raging hormones meets raging hormones. Add to that the newborn, one year old, a mother unable to help due to health reasons, and a husband who was recovering from his own health crisis. Life was CRAZY!
Now, I know that everyone's situation is different. For some women it may be a boyfriend who is non-committal, financial difficulties, feelings of inadequacy, or any number of things. But the bottom line is this: depression happens. It can happen to anyone. It shows itself in many ways. It lasts different lengths of times. And more people deal with it than you know.
My one major regret (that encompasses and affects all my other regrets) from this time in my life, is that I did not talk to a doctor about my depression. Day after day, while sitting on the floor with a screaming newborn, sobbing toddler and me out of sorts crying, I would think to myself "So this is depression; I wish I could talk to someone about this." And yet time would pass. I would get through one day only to face another, and time stretched out in front of me like an enormous desert that seems to choke you before you take the first step. It was a dark time.
If anything good can come out of that time, it would be that someone would listen when I tell my story. Someone would take the advice that I give, and that is to get help. To talk to someone, a doctor or counselor. If it means taking medicine, then do it. If it means allowing someone to help out at home, let them. If it means actually asking for help, do it. But don't shoulder everything alone. Don't carry the burden of depression on yourself. It will only stay with you longer and harm your precious children.

But this being a Mariposa blog, I am so thankful for change. Obviously if I am celebrating my DS2 turning 4, that means we are all still alive and well today, and have survived that tumultuous first year. He has grown into a sweet, caring, lovable little man that I am so proud to call my own. He fills my life with laughter and smiles, hugs and snuggles, and has come up with the funniest things to say. "You crack me up like a seat-belt!" He is quick to try whatever his big brother is doing, unless it involves pain, or possible pain, or one of the many foods that he does not like.
When I first found out I was pregnant with him, I have to say I was less than thrilled. I had barely figured out how to parent one child, then here comes number two. The first one hadn't been planned, but was welcomed with open arms and loving acceptance. Second baby, I'm afraid, was not so readily accepted.
But (and I know this sounds cliche) I can not imagine life without my DS2. My life would be so incomplete without the sound of his laughter, and the warmth of him snuggled against me as we read. I would miss the way his hair sticks up all over, no matter how long it is. I would miss his precious chocolate brown eyes and the way he crinkles them up when he smiles. I would miss his tender heart, how he will offer to hug me when I'm sad, or rub my back if I mention it being sore. He has filled my life with so many wonderful moments, I would gladly go through that awful first year again just to be with him now.
Life has a funny way of working out. Things we perceive as "curses" are sometimes blessings in disguise. A present from the Father who gives perfect gifts. A heavenly bundle wrapped in flesh, hand delivered to a parent who doesn't deserve it.

Every generous act of giving and every perfect gift is from above and comes down from the Father who made the heavenly lights, in whom there is no inconsistency or shifting shadow. James 1:27