Our third little guy Tucker is 17 months old and I’m enjoying him so much at this age. It’s the first time we’ve had a 17-month-old and not been pregnant or newly postpartum with our next baby. Teddy and Peter are 18.5 months apart and Peter and Tucker are 16.5 months apart, and I know from our January Q&A that many of you are pregnant with your second and/or getting ready for two under two!
I never want to bum anyone out when I admit that going from 1-2 kids was the most challenging transition for me (and my husband says 0-1 was harder for him, for what that’s worth!). If anything, I’d love to think I can offer the tiniest bit of solidarity to any of you who are really in the thick of it right now. I wish I could go back to those early days of two under two and tell that version of myself everything I wrote here, but maybe sharing it with those of you in a similar boat is the next best thing.
Dear new mom of two under two,
Oh, friend.
You survived pregnancy with a toddler.
You survived another labor and delivery.
You survived what felt like one thousand tests in the NICU where you and your husband prayed and prayed for the results you got.
You are relieved, exhausted, grateful, anxious, in love, and exhausted again.
You are home, with two babies. You made it.
You’ve done this before, so there are things that don’t feel so foreign the second time around.
You know what you need for postpartum recovery. You know the cluster feeds won’t last forever. You know to take pictures of that little newborn scrunch, to take videos of those first coos and giggles and yawns.
You know, at least in theory, that you will one day again sleep through the night.
But how is there still so much that feels brand new?
Two sets of questions to ask the pediatrician, two nap schedules that so rarely overlap, two beloved babies between whom you must split your previously undivided attention. Is alone time a thing of the past?
There is a night when both your babies cry uncontrollably right through dinner and all you can manage is to cry right alongside them.
So many days it feels like there is twice the hard. Twice the overwhelm. Twice the worry.
Twice the chances of staying up too late and starting your day before the sun.
Twice the tiny outfits to fold, and twice the appointments to pile into the car for.
Twice the amount of time it takes to get out of the house, and twice the chance you’ll have to race back because someone is cranky, crying, or overtired.
Twice the chance that the person who’s cranky, crying, or overtired is you.
Yes.
Yes to all of it.
Yes, and —
I know now there is twice — more than twice — the love.
Twice the hugs and kisses and tiny fingers and toes.
Twice the awe at these two tiny miracles, who are in some ways combinations of you and your husband and in so many others just entirely their own individuals.
Twice the swell in your heart when your first baby offers your second a Goldfish, or a pacifier, or a toy truck.
Twice the gratitude for your husband washing pump parts, getting coffee, tiring out your toddler at the playground.
Twice the temptation to scroll through photos after each of your babies has finally gone to sleep, wishing you could have a do-over now that you’ve had a moment to yourself.
Twice the dancing, twice the joy, twice the laughter, twice the magic and mischief that grow as they do.
One day, not so long from now, your first baby will kiss his little brother’s forehead just like he’s seen you do a thousand times.
One day, not so long from now, your second baby will look at his older brother like he hung the moon, no question as to his favorite person in the room.
One day they will build marble runs, race trains, share ice cream, and run full-speed into each other’s arms.
If today is hard, know that one day, not so long from now, their love will be a greater source of joy than you can possibly imagine.
It’s okay that it’s hard.
You’re doing great.
Keep going.
You’ve got this. ❤️
P.S. If this resonated with you, here are a few more posts you might like:
