I’m Beautiful Like Me.

I’m the youngest of 3. My brothers are 7 and 6 years older. My daddy was in the army and we moved a lot, never living close to my younger cousins for very long at all. I did not ever like younger children that I can think of - even when I was very young, my friends were always the older kids. And never had much opportunity for seeing anyone grow up until my eldest niece was born when I was 14. At the time, my mom and I lived in Florida and she was born here in Kentucky. She was several months old before I met her. I turned 18 a few years later and missed out on a lot of her younger years because I was busy with my own life.

Neither of my children were planned.

When I became pregnant with Joy, I was pretty scared. I wasn’t nervous about the pregnancy or labor, but the bringing her home and being responsible for her part terrified me. In fact, I had very vivid dreams about having a girl and just what sort of example I intended to set for her as a woman in this time, in this culture. They were not pleasant dreams.

Her first few weeks were the definition of “baby moon.” I loved her instantly and had an intuition about her cries and her needs. I was totally unprepared for how hard it was all to be, though and it wasn’t long before I would be totally consumed with overwhelming feelings of inadequacy, frustration and depression. I didn’t know what the hell I was doing and got very little support from her dad or extended family members. I’m still not entirely sure how I got through the toddler years. I’m sure I could pin a gray hair or two on that kid!

I didn’t want any more children after her. Her dad and I were in agreement of that much. I’ve always had this generally icky feeling about parents (my own included) playing favorites when they have more than one child. I understood that it isn’t necessarily deliberate - after all, humans are dynamic creatures and some people naturally get along better than others. Still, I didn’t want to be that mom. We were careful and I never became pregnant again.

As they often do, things changed. Joy’s dad and I split up. Money became tight for me, so I stopped taking birth control. A few months later, when I first met Husband, I started on a less expensive birth control.

A few months after that, I became pregnant with the boy.

Joy was 7 and half years old. I couldn’t believe that I was going to do all this all over again.

My pregnancy was harder, but not difficult by any means. Labor and delivery was smooth and swift. Again, I loved this new baby instantly and had a lovely baby moon.

When I was 6 weeks postpartum, I had a tubal ligation. No more babies for me, thanks.

Perhaps it is the years, the experience, the fact that I cannot have more children… but this boy has taught me so much. I have been far more patient with him than I ever was with Joy. I am enjoying him more, relaxed about things that caused me undue amounts of stress with the girl (like, say, eating food off the floor), and most importantly, learning to appreciate all the things I’ve taken for granted with the girl (like, say, how wonderfully she has always been with regards to sleep).

I still worry that she will think I favor him because he has required so much of my attention the past 16 months that she otherwise would’ve gotten all to herself, because he’s a baby and babies are more easily forgiven for driving one crazy with their incessant curiosity and getting into things they should not get into when they flash you a smile and produce a giggle, because she and I do have a hard time getting along these (and most) days, because I do love my children the same but perhaps I like him just a hair more… I hope that she understands why it is so when she is old enough and doesn’t hold any resentment toward me for it.

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This post is written after spending close to an hour trying to get the boy to sleep. He’s 16 months old and still sleeps in the bed with Husband and I and will not go to sleep for me unless he is nursing.

Joy has slept through the night since she was about 4 months old. She began sleeping in her crib in my room when she was a month old and in her own room when she was 6 months old.

A fellow blogger posted about her breastfeeding successes a few months ago and it inspired me to document my own failures and successes.

When I was pregnant with Joy, I read absolutely everything I could get my hands on about pregnancy, childbirth and breastfeeding. I talked extensively with my mom about her experiences, as well. Mom told me she had only nursed my eldest brother and not for long. Her husband was called in for military deployment and she said the stress of that dried her milk up overnight. Later in my pregnancy, I talked to my dad and he made a comment about remembering when my mom nursed me.

I argued with him: “Mom did not nurse me!”

“Yes, she did!” he responded.