The Struggle is Real: Going From One Kid to Two

Confession: I tend to read a lot of mommy blogs for inspiration, tips, hacks, affirmation, confirmation, etc. So, after hearing numerous mothers say it was more difficult to go from having zero to one kid, than from one to two kids, I assumed I would feel the same way, too. Unfortunately, it didn’t exactly work that way for me. I had gotten exactly what I’d asked for, when I asked for it, and I was still struggling inside.

Because I “normalized” six weeks after the birth of my first son, again, I thought I should be better after six weeks with my second. However, six weeks went by, then seven, eight and nine, and I still felt anxious, short-tempered, weepy and guilty for feeling the way I felt. Even simple things became difficult. I thought I had postpartum anxiety (PPA), so I cut back on some of the extra responsibilities I had outside of home and went to a counselor. I immediately realized I didn’t have PPA, and that I’ve actually had anxious tendencies for as long as I can remember. What I really had was a serious case of “doing too much.” Here’s what I’ve learned:

Two kids = no joke! It was as if everything multiplied by four. My son is only 7.5 months old now, and it seemed that once he was born, the number of dishes in the sink increased, the amount of laundry increased, the number of things on the floor increased… you get the picture. What has really happened is that the amount of energy we have to stay on top of those things has decreased, so the mess tends to stay around longer than it used to. We learned to be good with it. Our sanity, our marriage, and being present with our children is more important than a spotless home. However, we don’t let it pile up too badly because that also causes me anxiety.

I need the village. You know it takes a village to raise a child. I’ve discovered that it is true for me. I salute those of you who are single parents and those of you who don’t have a village to rely on, yet continue to press on. Even with help, sometimes I feel like I might spontaneously combust. I’m blessed to have a hands-on husband and a hands-on mom. I also have other family and friends to call on (even if just to say, without fear of judgment, that motherhood sucks sometimes). I used to feel like I shouldn’t need help because not only are these my kids, but they were planned — so I should suck it up and get on with it. However, that’s not at all helpful or realistic. I’m learning to be kinder to myself.

I need to be SMART. I’m Type A, and I have goals for everything, even for my marriage and motherhood. However, I realized the goal I was setting to “be the best wife and mother I can be,” was causing me stress and anxiety, too. That’s not specific, measurable, achievable, results-focused or time-bound. Instead, I decided I want to be emotionally and mentally balanced for my family. So, I decided that for at least six months, the only thing I would commit myself to outside of caring for my family was my full-time job. That meant writing for JMB and my other freelance writing gig both took a backseat for a few months, along with anything else that required a commitment. This enabled me to remove the mental clutter, so my brain could slow down, and I could be present with my guys.

I need to turn down the noise. There is so much craziness in our world right now, and as a black woman married to a black man with two black sons, turning on the news, looking at social media, and even overhearing the wrong conversation can make me anxious. So, I’ve deleted the Facebook app from my phone, and I’m very selective about what I engage in. I don’t have the emotional capacity at this stage in my life to raise my sons and deal with social ills. Even writing this last point gives me pause because I’m sure someone will probably question why I need to bring race into this article. All I can say is that this is my reality, and it’s a HUGE part of my motherhood.

I feel like I’m finally “normalizing,” and things are looking up. The boys are beginning to play together and my husband and I are beginning to catch our breath. The struggle is real, but we’ll make it.