(*Gets coffee. *Sits down to write blog. *Thinks to self: Gosh. What AREN’T I an expert in. *Sips coffee with a smile.)
Hello again all of you out there! So, since we last had a (one-way) conversation I have birthed yet another child. It was becoming a bit of a habit. (Don’t worry. I think I’ve kicked it now.)
The first thing I said, after I was handed my fresh little bub was: “I am a birthing champion!!” True story. Ask the people in the room who were rolling their eyes.
I’ve always been REALLY GOOD at giving myself compliments. See… that’s another one right there. Amazing. I did it again. (Legend)
So I thought it only right, that since many of my friends are now having bubbas of their own… at appropriate ages and on purpose (can’t believe I never thought of that)… that I should impart my valley of knowledge upon you all.
Welcome, once again, to my brain. (Take a seat. Grab a whiskey. Don’t interrupt.)
Here is CRITICAL advice, about being a mother to multiple offspring. And remember… I have been at this for 5 weeks now. An expert that DOTH make. Arigato.
PEARL OF WISDOM ONE: No two labours are the same. (Although, they seem to consistently include a lot of pain and suffering.)
With my first, I was in hospital for 12 hours before meeting miss Montaine. I watched Captain America, walked around a bit, threw up, cried, and other stuff like that.
With my second, I was in there for 4.5 hours. Within this tiny window of time, I managed to drink a soy latte, attempt to escape (via waiting room bathroom) and learn a lot about the lives of my midwives (holla to you Ali and Sarah).
With my first, I went into labour on a Wednesday evening. So I waited until the Bachelorette Finale was over before heading into the hospital.
With my second, I went into labour early on Monday morning. And luckily the Bachelor is on Wednesdays and Thursdays. So I didn’t miss it.
With my first, I was blissfully excited, tired and delusional.
With my second, I was all-too-aware, weirdly-hungry, frightened and looking for the exit.
With my first, I gave birth naturally on a yoga mat.
With my second, I gave birth naturally in a hot bath.
Both times, the logistics did not go to plan.
On account of both times, not having a plan.
Both times, I did what I felt like.
Both times, I used music as motivation.
Both times, both Gavin & my mum were there.
Both times, it worked out splendidly.
(All things being relative.)
PEARL OF WISDOM TWO: Don’t pre-name your kid Perry.
So. How do I put this delicately? Well kids, when you are in the hospital, about to push a child out of your body, there are a few areas the midwives really fuss over. One is called the “perineum.” (I shall let you google it in your own time.) The midwives speak of it often and care a lot for its wellbeing. They also give it the cute little nickname ‘Perry’ which gets thrown around a lot. I personally believe your future son deserves a better, definitely less rectum related, namesake. But it’s up to you.
PEARL OF WISDOM THREE: 2 kids = 2 rooms, minimum.
This one is simple math really. Which is why I did not work it out.
When you hath but one child, and they are asleep, the world is a beautiful place. Shhhhh. Your love nook is pastel perfect. Like a soft song. Tea is made, magazines are read, towels are folded (mostly by other people in my case). It is serene. You all love and adore each other so much, you can tip toe around your angel, in your little abode, taking instagram photos of their colour-coordinated sweet sweet slumber.
But when you hath the second, and one is asleep…. the other is probably screaming with the fury of Thor. The floor caves in, the roof collapses, Child One wakes up and turns into a dinosaur, ROAAAARRRR, tired and bearing teeth and now they are both screaming. The bigger one whose name you have forgotten is throwing things, anything, there goes the phone, arghhhh, the wishful tea (idiot), the plants outside give a final wave, before choosing to shrivel up and DIE… rather than spend one more moment near you and your PRECIOUS family.
So please people. When multiplying. Remember this. Walls are wonderful. Repeat after me. Walls. Are. Wonderful.
They separate. Which ironically, is the key for keeping the family together. I honestly believe this is actually the true inspiration behind the song Wonderwall.
“Because maaaaaybe, you’re gonna be the one that saaaaaves me. And after aaaall, you’re my wonderwaaaaaall.” Thank-you Oasis. (Also an appropriate band name, which backs up my theory.)
PEARL OF WISDOM FOUR: You’re not going back to work. Not now. Not for awhile.
Not even a little bit. Not even for a wee cheeky sniff. No. Put the dreams away for the moment you naïve little Muppet and pick up the breast-pump. This is a whole new world. And not the one Aladdin was harping on about.
PEARL OF WISDOM FIVE: You gain a baby & lose a baby.
This is an emotional one. Possibly the hardest. Above and beyond the double-poo-quota, the half-sleep-quota, the triple-body-fat-quota.
When you have a second baby. Your first baby doesn’t feel like a baby anymore. He or she suddenly becomes big. Huge even. Old and grown and competent in your eyes. A little dangerous adult, with the ability to hurt your tiny one. Most probably a bit of a little s#!+ too, if we are honest.
If you are like me, exhausted and frustrated, you might even speak to your first-born with anger sometimes. You might even tell him or her to go away, to give you a break, to stop touching the baby, to stop touching you, to just stop.
Then you might cry. Alot. Maybe? Perhaps it will be uncontrollable? It’s possible that you will feel guilty and convince yourself that you have broken your first baby’s heart?
I mean … who knows… that’s what MIGHT happen. If you aren’t cool and collected like I am. This definitely didn’t happen to me.*
But the chances are, you have not broken your toddlers heart. You might have shocked him or her, maybe even made them upset. But it’s nothing a cuddle, a story, a kiss on the forehead, a song, a chocolate-milk date for just Mummy and OG-bubba, won’t fix.
Plus. As my EXTENSIVE 1x month of experience shows… these feelings of intense frustration fade pretty quickly.
Soon, you will just cherish being the mother to two incredible, sincere and open to love, little beings. And then it’s chocolate milks for ALL. With a smattering of ‘The Bachelor’ (slash ‘Made in Chelsea’ slash ‘Manhunt: Unabomber’ slash ‘Grand Design’) on the side.
Which is what I am off to do now. Scrolly scroll the ol Netflix.
Remember. You got this. For all the other issues that may arise, they can probably be solved with, a boob lift, a nanny, something stronger than coffee but not quite cocaine, the post-baby ‘Sweat’ app, heaps of baby wipes, a gym membership, spanx, tissues in your bra and a shower.
*This definitely did happen to me.