If Avie is a lesson in patience (which, let’s face it, what 3 year old isn’t), then Arwyn is a lesson in humility. After kiddo number one, I was pretty sure I had this parenting thing figured out. I mean, I’m not perfect, but I never doubted my ability. She ate like a champ, so I couldn’t understand why those moms gave up on breastfeeding. She slept like a champ, so I couldn’t understand why those moms were still co-sleeping or up at all hours of the night. They’re how old? They can sleep through the night!
Honestly, I was judgey.
But I must apologize and beg your forgiveness if you ever felt that judgement. Because kiddo number two has humbled me in ways I didn’t even realize was possible.
It started with the pregnancy. Nothing saw the same the second time around. There was a lot more throwing up.
This kid didn’t (and still doesn’t) have a great latch. One La Leche League gal I talked to (at 5 weeks) was amazed I had pushed through that long. Luckily, unlike many moms with latch issues, I wasn’t in agony and Arwyn was still growing. I now understand how a mom could give up on this one.
And if that weren’t enough, she doesn’t tolerate when I have dairy well at all. Like… at all. I just knew I had a happy baby in there somewhere, but she was just angry. All. The Time. When a friend of mine cut out dairy for her baby (prior to kiddo #2) I laughed to myself and though, “it can’t be that bad, I would never bend my life to fit a little dictator like that.” I haven’t had cheese in 2 months. I can’t say there haven’t been times I’ve thought about how much easier life would be with formula.
This kid doesn’t like to sleep. Unlike Avie, she has a paci. And that paci is the bane of my existence because as soon as it falls out, she’s awake until I fix it for her. Every. Night. I’ve even thought about taking it away. But then the thought of the screaming on end without it has stopped me. She often takes naps with me. Co-sleeping. Something I never did with Avie. At this age, Avie slept an average of 10+ hours straight at night. In her own bed. In her own room. Arwyn… 3-5. If I’m lucky. Sister room sharing is out of the question for now.
I don’t write all this to complain. (Ok, maybe just a little.) But mostly to admit that I was wrong. I wasn’t a great mom, I just had an easy first baby. (Now, toddler-hood may be a different story.) I get it now. And if I am ever tempted to be judgey… well, Arwyn will wake up every hour all night for you. To remind me of you, whoever I’ve judged. Please forgive me.