I’m not excited for our third child. Or at least I wasn’t.
There it is. I said it, and it’s out there in the universe to be dissected and criticized.
This was not part of the plan. Not right now, not this soon. We are still in our starter home, my husband and I have actually discussed the horror of what it would be like paying for three children in daycare, and neither of us have a car that could comfortably fit three little nuggets at the moment. My mind started racing about what our 10-month-old will or won’t be doing by then. What will he still need me for? What can he do by himself? How soon can we get him out of diapers? Yes, I found myself wishing for him to do things FASTER, as if things already don’t go fast enough.
Then there’s the guilt. Our oldest had us to himself for 3 ½ years before another one came along. Now our second would get just 15 months before someone else stole his baby thunder. I also remember vividly the day we discovered we were pregnant with our first two:
We were elated. Tears of joy and excitement. Downloading pregnancy apps immediately and checking out every pregnancy website I could find. Circling dates in my planner including due date, half way date, announcement date etc.
To paint a picture of this one?
Fetal position crying on the floor. Frantically adding up daycare costs, looking up houses for sale and cars with a third seat, and redesigning our home in my head to make as much room as possible. In a nutshell, there were no celebratory dates circled in my planner.
Then came the worst guilt of all: the guilt that came after the dust had settled. What about this poor life growing inside of me? The one we weren’t excited for? The one that so many others, including close friends of mine, would give anything to have? All the reasons and excuses that were stealing away our excitement were silly or unreasonable. Money…space….guilt. But what we DO have is love. Goodness, I love being a Mom. And my husband loves being a Dad. And we love those tiny little people so much.
And then it was time to get over myself. Yes, having 3 under 5 will be difficult…but some people have three (or more) at one time, some have several, all of which are 15, 16, 17 months apart. There are amazing super women all around me that have way more on their plates than me. I can do this. Surprises happen. And sometimes the unplanned parts of life are the best parts.
So we will get a bigger house, and we will get larger vehicles, and we will do yoga to keep our sanity. If you see me and I happen to be mumbling to myself, with three day old mismatched clothes on and bags under my eyes… I’ll have it more together than it looks. Or maybe I won’t.
And to this little one who thinks Mommy’s plans are silly–our little surprise who has made me a more panicked version of myself–we promise to love you so much. Just as much as the first two.
