The Guilt of a Second

I write from the throes of pregnancy at week forty. 

None of my favorite jeans fit, I’m sleeping very little and I find myself hungry all the time. It’s like college all over again, but my beloved Chocolate Shop isn’t right around the corner. 

I have a terrible admission to make. I thought if I tell you – and only you – it’ll be off my chest and perhaps I’ll feel a bit less guilt? We’ll see. 

I feel terribly guilty about having a second child. Our daughter Caroline, who just turned two in July, has soaked up every bit of attention and adoration my husband and I have had to offer for twenty-four months. There is no way a second could capture our hearts in the way she has. It is as though I have little love left to give because my heart is running around the outside of my body, begging to go check cows with her baby doll in tow. 

Is this normal? 

Did anyone else feel like their second child would automatically be getting the short end of the stick right out of the gate? How could I possibly love anything in the way I love our first born?

The second will be introduced to hand-me-down clothes on the day they (gender to be discovered at time of birth) come home from the hospital. 

The second will be swaddled in blankets monogrammed with their big sister’s initials. 

The second will use sippy cups with little teeth marks already along the edges. 

The second will never know a mother without grey hair or dark circles under her eyes. 

The second will be bathed with tattered washcloths, wear bibs with spaghetti stains down the front and strut around in cowboy boots already broken in to fit someone else’s feet. 

The second will read books with missing pages, put together puzzles with bent corners and will never have a plastic kiddie pool to themselves.

The second will be compared to the first, out of habit. Will they walk sooner? Cry longer? Bite harder? I pray daily that they arrive in fewer than twenty-six hours of labor. 

The second will use a pacifier that fell on the barn’s dirt floor and wasn’t boiled afterwards. Or, ever. 

The second will blow out birthday candles that have already been lit and blown out once before.  

The second will never get to name their first heifer without input from the next room over. 

The second will never have their birthdate or initials used in a password sequence.

The second will require a sense of humor, high pain tolerance and fierce independence for survival. 

The second is definitely getting the short end of the stick. 

I told my mom and sister about my feelings of guilt and my perceived inability to ever love a second child in the way I have loved our first. My mom quickly responded to my concern with, “How do you think I felt with three kids?!” 

It should be noted here that I’m child number three. 

And her response actually explains a lot of the last thirty-three years. 

UPDATE:

Cyrus Sankey was born August 10, 2018 and when it comes to my fears listed above, 
I think I've had a change of heart. 

Oh, Mary.

At church on Christmas Eve day, our sermon was over the birth of Jesus and how - if we look through a series of events that comprise our life - God is with you, God was with you and God will be with you. 

A particular scripture our minister hit on was Luke 2:16-19: 

16 So they hurried off and found Mary and Joseph, and the baby, who was lying in the manger. 

17 When they had seen him, they spread the word concerning what had been told them about this child, 

18 and all who heard it were amazed at what the shepherds said to them. 

19 But Mary treasured up all these things and pondered them in her heart. 

Luke 2:19:

But Mary treasured up 

all these things and 

pondered them in her heart. 

Oh, Mary. 
What an intimate moment for a new mother to reflect. 

Do you know what I was pondering right after I gave birth? Where Cody found the time to get a smoothie before they had cut the cord. 

In an effort to be more like Mary, on the way home from Christmas services I made a quick list of things I'm currently pondering in my heart. I jotted them down in my church bulletin:

1. Where all the dead flies are coming from?
2. What is the true refrigerator shelf life of chili? Also: If I pick out the beans, can chili be used in chef's surprise lasagna?
3. How do we have self-driving cars but don’t have Christmas lights that last more than one season or temperatures below 35º?
4. When will Caroline figure out that she has yes and no mixed up? "Do you love Mommy?" "No!" as she hugs my neck. "Do you like getting your fingers pinched in doors?" "YESH!"
5. Why won’t the livestock waterers freeze when Cody is home, but will become solid ice before he’s 50 miles down the road on a 12-day trip?
6. A big change coming January 1.
7. If trash pick-up is usually Monday but Monday is Christmas...when is trash pick-up? Also: If trash pick-up is usually Monday but next Monday is New Year’s Day...when is trash pick-up? This is like a bad riddle that I cannot solve.
8. Is it appropriate to re-send a Christmas card that was returned due to a shoddy address, though Christmas has since passed? Also, when did our friends move? More importantly, where did they go?
9. Why haven't we had a mouse problem this year? If I question it, will they come?
10. When did I get to the age that my favorite Christmas gifts were wool socks and a cast iron skillet?

Two days later, while trying to recompose our house from the holiday, I found my notes from church. 

I guess in terms of my likeness to Mary I have a way to go.

But that doesn’t surprise either of us, 

now does it?

Parenthood: Year One

We're now the proud parents of a one-year-old, and if the first year is indication of how the rest of them will go: 

Fasten your seat belts, folks, 

and keep all limbs inside the vehicle.
This ride is fast. 

Wow - year one went quickly. 

Mostly because this is how we spent the first twelve months:

Month One
Month one was mostly spent learning how to function on church lady meals (amazing), three-minute showers and way too much daytime television. It was spent trying to come to terms with the fact that I would likely never sleep again. Month one was mostly spent with Caroline and I crying a lot, Cody wondering what the heck happened to his bride and me washing baby clothes so big, I never thought she'd grow into them. Month one was spent wrapping her in a blue light blanket and praying for a good outcome. Month one was spent losing the same cup of coffee multiple times. It was spent counting my blessings until I fell asleep. Month one was my favorite month. 

Month Two
Month two was mostly spent wondering if Caroline was getting enough to eat. And googling stomach sizes of infants and researching ways to increase milk production and calling the pediatric center daily. Month two was spent tapping containers on the counter top to get just one more drop into the bottle. It was spent pulling the car over to the side of the road to get in the back seat to check if she was still breathing because she had miraculously quit crying. Month two was spent warming the same cup of coffee in the microwave three times before finishing it. It was spent counting my blessings until I fell asleep. Month two was my favorite month. 

Month Three
Month three was mostly spent and washing, folding and sorting the baby clothes (that I thought she'd never grow into) so they could be moved to storage because she had outgrown them. Month three was spent trying to get into a really solid routine so that month four wouldn't hurt so badly. It was spent crossing state lines in an airplane and learning how to travel with an infant - nearly perfectly. It was spent packing and unpacking suitcases and realizing you can never pack too many burp cloths. Month three was about getting out and going. Even though, on one trip to my Grandma's I pulled over at these locations to check her, as her neck appeared weird in the backseat mirror: 

1. Abandoned Copper Kettle restaurant gravel lot (100 yards from our driveway)
2. Economy fruit stand
3. Closed down Williamsburg general store
4. Stuckey's at Centerville Road and I-70
5. Centerville Christian Church
6. Abington Fire Station
7. Aunt Debbie's driveway
8. Empty parking lot in Boston

Then I drove way too fast, four more miles to Grandma's. The 40-minute trip took well over an hour. We both napped upon arrival, and Great-Grandma found us boring. Month three was my favorite month. 

Month Four
Month four was mostly spent crying on the way to work and exceeding the speed limit on the way back to the daycare after work. It was spent not working a minute past 5:00 and being the first person out of the parking lot. Month four was spent calling the daycare every day to ensure Caroline was ok and to see if she'd asked about me. And scrolling through photos and video on my phone every time I needed a break from my career. Which was once an hour. At least. Month four was about finding joy in the 5:00 AM hour, waking before the rest of the world and holding someone so small, so tight, in such darkness, realizing how precious those moments are. Month four was my favorite month. 

Month Five
Month five was mostly spent sitting at the top of the creaky farm house steps on Saturdays, waiting on a baby to fall and stay asleep. It was spent judging breathing patterns from twelve feet away and trying to see a little chest move up and down. Month six was spent trying to figure out how I was going to get back down the extremely squeaky stairs without undoing everything I just did. Month five was about learning to let go and let sleep. Everyone. Month five was spent trying to quietly hide from an emerging, energetic personality. Month five was my favorite month. 

Month Six 
Month six was mostly spent packing for a Christmas adventure to Kansas then wondering if we'd ever survive it. It was sorting through weeks of clothes, for a 5-day trip and cramming diapers into every available space inside a Ford F-250. Month six was about learning how to travel via stock trailer, not airplane, while working around a baby and a few cow/calf pairs. Month six brought a whole new joy to the holidays. Month six was spent humming the same two songs over and over to get the baby to sleep: Silent Night and the theme song from Cheers. Month six was my favorite month. 

Month Seven
Month seven was mostly spent in Carhartts and insulated boots. It was spent zipping and unzipping many layers, feeding and checking cows in the dark 6:00 PM hour and being thankful the diesel growl of a Kubota puts a baby to sleep. It was mostly spent wondering who in the he** engineered the blue ball waterers that constantly freeze and if there is a warrant out for their arrest. It was spent begging a baby to try bananas and green beans. Then wiping bananas and green beans off the dining rooms walls. Month seven was my favorite month. 

Month Eight
Month eight was mostly spent traveling for work and taking a round-faced, brown-eyed baby with me. It was learning that no one sleeps well in a hotel room and no one can get out of Evansville, Indiana fast enough. Month six was spent chipping ice out of water tanks and  putting mittens on a baby who must suck her thumb. Month eight was a real humdinger. It was spent trying to make our way through 3 (more) teeth, 2 (more) ear infections and many more wipe-downs of the dining room walls. Month eight had all of us nearly tearing down the walls to reach fresh air outside. Month eight was my favorite month. 

Month Nine
Month nine was mostly spent wondering how you get a baby to sit still long enough to get her hair in a rubber band and out of her eyes. I was spent it wondering if it's too early to spritz some tail adhesive in the mess and call it done. Month nine was spent wondering how someone so small can find every lady bug in the house, after we had to spend an entire weekend at home because I couldn't find my car keys. Month nine was mostly spent on the living room floor clapping and singing and giggling and wishing bedtime wasn't so early but thanking God that rest was minutes away. Month nine was my favorite month. 

Month Ten
Month ten was mostly spent removing batteries out of remote controls and putting covers over all reachable outlets; then realizing she has really good reach. Month ten was spent outside studying trees and blooms and rain drops and baby calves. Month ten was spent touching everything and washing our hands a lot. It was spent learning that baby teeth are the sharpest teeth in the history of the world and their jaws can move quite quickly. Month ten was spent logging many hours swinging in the tree and dancing in the kitchen. Month ten was spent waiting for the gagging noise, then peeling a piece of the Angus Journal out of the roof of her mouth, again. Month ten was my favorite month. 

Month Eleven
Month eleven was mostly spent taking imaginary bites of soggy graham crackers when the baby wanted to share. It was spent hugging and kissing her dolly and teddy bear when she thought you should and helping her climb onto her rocking horse every morning and every night. Month eleven was spent picking white seeds out of seedless watermelons and squeezing her into a swimsuit two nights a week. Month eleven was spent folding clothes in the 11:00 PM hour and wiping your tears with footie pajamas that have grippers on the feet because you realize how fast life goes when you're living for something new. It was spent doing a "cheek check" after dinner and again before bed because you realize babies and chipmunks are both hoarders. Month eleven was learning that there is something incredibly intriguing about me stepping foot inside the bathroom. Month eleven was my favorite month. 

Month Twelve
Month twelve was mostly spent on my hands and knees, wiping spilled milk up of the kitchen floor and whispering "spill-proof my ass" before coming back up to where the baby could hear me. It was spent looking in the refrigerator and finding things that can be cut into tiny pieces that will - even after mopping the floor - end up stuck to the bottom of my bare foot as I walk to the bathroom at 2:57 AM. It was spent learning to not be surprised when the baby brings me things - such as little pieces of steak, that is now beef jerky - that I haven't served for two weeks. Month twelve is about wondering where toddlers hide food and if the house might have an ant problem. Month twelve is what we just got through, where we learned moreso everyday that children don't need stuff or over stimulation. They need hugs and experiences. Month twelve was my favorite month. 

I offer sincere thanks to each of you 

who have encouraged me through motherhood over the last year. 

I've wanted to be a mother since I met my own, 

but it wasn't until I became one 

that I realized just what motherhood entails. 

And we haven't even approached 

potty training, 

long division or 

wedding dress shopping. 

Prayers appreciated. 

A Day Off and a Dollar Short

Did you guys know yesterday was Wednesday?
Yeah. I figured that one out about eight hours prior. 

As Cody rolls his suitcase through the living room:
"Boy, you're packing early. You don't leave until Wednesday!" I remarked, folding clothes, lightly thinking about his next coast-to-coast trip. 
"You know tomorrow is Wednesday, right?" Cody responded at 7:54 PM. 
It was as though I ran into a wall without standing up. 

Darn You Three Day Weekend!

Isn't is amazing what one day off can do to a routine? 

Since your kids are out on summer break and you still haven't put on mascara, let me tell you about our Memorial Day Weekend and the days that have since followed. 

At approximately 3:12 PM Saturday I ran out of cash at the Amish greenhouse and tried really hard to bargain with two 10-year-olds who only spoke dutch. They had no interest in trading succulents for Caroline's dishwashing talents, so we rolled outta there without hens & chicks. I told them I'd come back Monday with adequate funds...but I didn't have the guts to show my face again. 

At approximately 5:07 PM Saturday afternoon unexpected company rolled up our lane. My genetics kicked in and I instinctively grabbed everything I could find and threw it someplace no one would ever think to look: the shower. 

At 9:00 PM the day cooled down, I had planted every thing I'd purchased, I put Caroline in the kiddie corral and started a shower for myself. I let the bathroom fill with steam then cracked the window for some awesome springtime air. 

Then I climbed in. 
Twenty seconds later, my soil-covered self came to realize that I was suddenly showering with everything I'd hidden in the shower at 5:07 PM.

Who else in the entire history of the world can say they have showered with:

Two issues of Country Living 

A Farm Bureau bill

A lapel pin from judging the Ft. Worth Stock Show

Two dirty dish towels 

A cup of oatmeal, 12 hours old

A baby spoon

An oatmeal-caked bib 

Keys to a 4-wheeler

A wedding invitation from 2016

A light bulb

Two packets of hotel coffee

and finally: Caroline's rubber ducky. 

I do believe I've never had that much fun in the shower. 
Everything is now drying on the back patio. 

The next afternoon I drug myself into CVS and bought

Dry shampoo 

Waterproof mascara 

Diapers

A sympathy card

A probiotic

Shoe polish 

and finally: Wine 
With every scanned "BEEP" I felt like I was being judged. 
But then I thought: add manure to this fiasco and it's pretty well my life summed up in a red plastic basket. 

An hour later we returned home and I sat in my vehicle and leaned against the headrest while Caroline slept, 18 inches away. We sat there for less than two minutes and I drifted to sleep, dreaming about the state of California sinking into a sea of Pace Picante. 

So that's my life right now. 

For Caroline's first Memorial Day Weekend we honored, listened, swung, prayed, sang, ate, twirled, rocked, climbed, drove, checked, watched, rolled, giggled, and rested very, very little. And Caroline still woke at 4:03 AM Tuesday morning. We are committed to teaching her the true meaning of Memorial Day. 

It wasn't until the "Boy, you're packing early. You don't leave until Wednesday!" comment on Tuesday evening that I remembered that I'd lost a day of writing in this week.

On Wednesday afternoon my trusty Outlook calendar kindly reminded me that I had a dentist appointment in 15 minutes. Again: I thought it was tomorrow. 

I texted my boss and told him I'm an idiot and would be leaving early, went to the ladies' restroom and flossed/brushed my teeth, then sped out of the office as a woman on a mission. 

Ten minutes later I found myself parking my car at the pediatric center, not the dentist. I sat in the parking lot for ten seconds quite confused. Where am I and how did I get here? It was as though my car was on auto-pilot from the last 6 months of ear infections. 

I'm convinced that stress overload and a three day weekend can cause havoc on any (semi-) sane person. 

So here I am. 

Hoping the Farm Bureau bill dries out before it is due and awaiting a new fitting for my night gear retainer, at age 32. 

Life has a funny way of humbling people 

when they think they have it all together.