The babymoon ends

I'll start by sharing something that's a bit difficult to admit, though I suspect I'm not at all alone in my feelings.

Susanna's birth was emotionally very complicated for me, and very, very different from Lea's birth in terms of the psychological journey it took me on. Here's the most truthful truth I can muster: one of the first things that popped into my head when I saw her was "Who is this impostor? I already have a baby!"

Yep. That's what I thought. Luckily, I am a self-examiner by nature, and I had already considered the possibility that I'd have some weird stuff happen in the brain department at that moment, so my reaction to my own thought was not horror and fling-myself-out-the-window guilt, as I imagine it might be for some. I was able to kind of roll my eyes at myself, recognize the thought for what it was-- a totally human response to the sudden shake-up in my mothering world-- take another look at the wriggling slippery mess on my chest, and see, my god, how beautiful she was and how much I really did already love her.

And I have loved her, and loved her, and loved her ever since. But. It's been such a different bonding process, and it seems that every moment of falling in love with her is matched with a corresponding pang of torment that I've abandoned Lea. And that I miss my first baby sometimes, so, so much. So that's hard. Really hard. Especially in the earliest days, when Susanna's needs were so impossible to anticipate, and all I could really do was be physically available to her, we'd often find ourselves doing the old divide-and-conquer trick, with Brian taking over almost all of Lea's care, and me nursing and nursing and nursing and that's about it. As much as I love to cuddle a tiny baby, I could hear Lea's laughter and hilarious two-year-old way of talking (and occasionally, her confused and sober inquiries as to where Mama was), and it would kill me that I could not un-latch the baby and go scoop up my firstborn and blow raspberries on her belly and make her smile, and just be with her. And then, on the other hand, when I was on my own with both girls, I'd find myself in situations where I was trying to tend to Susanna, and Lea would be her typical toddler self and just get in my way, and get in her sister's face, and be noisy and disrupt feedings and whine and make a mess and I would resent her. I'd resent her on behalf of me, and on behalf of the brand-new baby who didn't deserve such chaos. I'd think about how peaceful Lea's world was as a newborn, and how unfair it was that Susanna didn't get to have the universe revolve around her, even for just a little bit.

Which brings me to today, Lea's last day of school before it closes for the summer. First of all, I cannot say enough good things about how this school has improved our lives in general. (Among other things, it's how we've met literally all of our friends. Somehow, a whole bunch of very like-minded parents ended up with kids in the same class. Awesome.) But I honestly cannot say where I would be now, in terms of mental health, if I had not had four mornings per week with just my baby, for nearly the first five months of her life. Oh, lordy. There has been nothing sweeter than those three hours, taking our time getting going for the day, making googly eyes at one another for long stretches before even getting dressed. Listening to her perfect baby laugh. Letting her nurse for luxuriously long stretches with absolutely no interruptions. It's been beautiful.

And now, it's ok that it's coming to an end, because we're right on the brink where I can tell Susanna is not going to tolerate lounging in bed for much longer. She is crazy ambitious about wanting to crawl, and she sort of demands entertainment in a way that she didn't use to, so it will be fine to switch up our routine and have more active mornings. I think she's ready for that, and I'm ready for it too. I feel so fortunate to have had this chance to focus exclusively on her, to learn all the things that make her who she is, already quite different from her big sister, and already very charming on her own. Not that I wouldn't know her if Lea wasn't in school, but I really do feel like for me and my needs and style as a parent, this has been critical. So I will never feel bad about sending Lea out into the world each morning, young as she is. She loves school, anyway; she's so social and confident, it slays me, so I don't have any doubts that school is a fun and comfortable place for her to be.

I'm lucky, by all accounts. It's going so fast this time around, so I'm trying my best to soak it up and not wish away the hard parts, because even they will be a sweet memory not too far down the road. So as much as my self-examining ways can be a hindrance in certain areas, here's another where they're useful:

"This." I say to myself, every day. "This is worth imprinting on my soul. Memorize it. Now."