Before we had kids, I always knew I wanted more than one. In fact, I wanted at least 3.
Then I had one child and I said “two will be fine” HAHAHA … when I was experiencing horrible contractions, I remember saying “why did my Grandmother do this 9 times?!” …
Anyway, clearly the trauma of pregnancy, labour, and a newborn baby wasn’t enough to deter us – we got pregnant with our second when our first was 15 months old.
I was excited to be pregnant again, but an overwhelming guilt came over me.
I struggled a lot with my eldest when we were younger. Not because of her, but because of me and my mental state.
I felt like (and still feel like) I have a lot to make up with her for being so sad, and angry; even though she had no idea …
With number 2 on the way, I felt guilty that I was no longer going to be able to give her my full attention.
That my love for her would be split in half – between her and the second child.
Being pregnant, with a toddler in tow, was difficult too. I had really bad morning sickness for the first 15 weeks, and it was extremely draining.
I was a stay-at-home-mum, and I didn’t really go anywhere with my girl – we didn’t really do play-dates, or mainly music, or play centre or ANYTHING.
I remember I visited my Mum and Dad nearly every single day, and would chat about how my Mum did when she was pregnant with us.
Mum got pregnant with my brother when I was only 3 months old – so she didn’t have a toddler running around. She had a legitimate baby still. I can’t even imagine what that’s like.
Anyway, the guilt I felt for having another baby slowly went away because I got so distracted with being a parent, and being pregnant.
When Ronan was finally born, I realised that my love for my children isn’t split – it grows.
Love is such an overwhelming feeling too, when number 2 (or 3 or 4) comes into the mix, the love is amplified; and at times it feels too much.
I had such a different experience as a mother with Ronan though, compared to Chloe – but I’ll save that story for another time …