Room for Two
The day before Henry’s birth is a blur of my water breaking in the wee hours of the morning, a doctor’s visit, rushing to pick up Thomas from school, re-packing my bag, and finally heading off to the hospital. In the anxious, hectic hours in between the doctor’s office and the hospital there was a brief moment of calm. As I had done every other day of his life when I was with him, a bit after one clock in the afternoon, I took Thomas into his room and nursed him to sleep for his nap. I was keenly aware that it would be the very last time it would be just the two of us, a mother and her only child. And after what seemed like far too short of a time he fell asleep. I held him and a few tears sprang to my eyes. I knew that I needed to get going, that time might be of the essence, but I just wanted to freeze time in that moment. To sit and soak it up until I was ready to move on and become the mother of two. It doesn’t work that way though and after about ten peaceful minutes of holding my little boy I gently laid him in bed and went off to give birth to his brother.
I knew in that last quiet moment with Thomas that parenting two children would be more challenging that parenting one. I envisioned being housebound – trapped between two napping schedules. I concocted horrifying scenarios involving a walk to Target, two diaper blowouts, and a flat tire on the stroller. I feared nap time; how was I supposed to nurse one to sleep while quietly entertaining the other? It turns out Henry naps just fine and dandy out of the house, nobody has pooped at Target, and Thomas actually falls asleep for his nap more quickly and easily when Henry is snuggled in between us. What I didn’t anticipate is just how difficult it would be to give each boy the attention that each of them truly needs. The first couple of weeks were a honeymoon; Henry slept 22 hours a day and Thomas seemed to be thrilled having both mama and daddy around. Around his due date, Henry “woke-up”, Thomas seemed to be struck with the realization that he was getting significantly less focused attention, and the sleep deprivation began to take it’s toll on the parents. My energetic, clever Thomas wants to be ACTIVE, to go outside, to do all of his “projects” (Legos, trains, PlayDough, chalk drawings) with his mama sidekick. My sweet little Henry is just trying to figure out the world, prefers a calm quiet room, and would be perfectly happy never to be put down. It feels to me that their respective needs couldn’t be more diametrically opposed to one another. I just want them both to feel stimulated, surrounded by love, and confident in their mother’s devotion to them. I was depressed my entire pregnancy with Henry but the feeling of being emotionally drawn and quartered (or more aptly, drawn and halved) sent me right over the edge. It reached a precipice a couple of weeks ago with Thomas beginning to express his angst by making statements such as “I want to break his head” (said while smiling sweetly at Henry) coupled with Jeff getting a summer job meaning that I would be alone with the two boys; never feeling like either was getting the attention they deserved for five days a week, nine hours a day.
Thankfully, for all of our sanity it looks like we have a few solutions: Jeff’s parent’s offered (or were encouraged) to take Thomas for one day and one night each week my sister will take Thomas on adventures one morning a week, and we are number one on the waitlist to get Thomas back into school a couple of days a week. Today was the first grandparent overnight for Thomas and the first Henry-Mama Monday. It was a good day for all of us. Henry clearly soaked up all of the attention; he didn’t utter a single cry all day long and was awake for long calm stretches of time. Thomas was treated to feeding ducks at a park and a visit to a pet store featuring turtles. Jeff came home to a happy family. And I got to hold my baby as long as I wanted without feeling guilty along with the wonderful feeling of missing Thomas and being able to look forward to the next day with both of my boys.
I often lay Henry down on a clean blanket on the floor of the living room when we are all awake together and sit in between him and Thomas; shifting my attention back and forth between singing and smiling with Henry and building Lego towers with Thomas. Thomas often scrambles over to the blanket, plopping himself down next to Henry and exclaiming “There is room for two boys on this blanket.” I smile at the sight of the two people I love most in the world lying next to one another in front of me and I sigh as I attempt to keep one of them from injuring the other with his exuberance. There is room for two little boys on my blanket.