You were meant to be the easy child, but let me tell you, that was not the case. From the moment I saw those two pink lines, I convinced myself that I could handle this. If I was pregnant, it would all work out just fine. It didn’t matter that you weren’t part of the original plan. I had already mastered the art of parenting with two little ones — I was practically a pro. I could change a diaper in my sleep, for crying out loud. But you? You had other plans from day one.
I thought I had learned my lesson after my first two pregnancies, especially when it came to shedding those extra pounds. I promised myself I would do better this time around. But when you have two toddlers running around, refusing to eat their meals, it’s nearly impossible not to finish off their leftovers. Let’s just say I consumed a fair share of half-eaten peanut butter and jelly sandwiches while you were growing inside me, and that did not help my waistline one bit.
You probably don’t recall the day you made your grand entrance, but I certainly do. How naive was I to think that having already given birth twice would make this experience a breeze? I assumed your older siblings had paved the way, but boy, was I wrong. The contractions you put me through felt like trying to demolish a brick wall with my bare hands. Newsflash: labor doesn’t get easier with practice.
After all that, I figured we could settle into a cozy routine of napping and sleepless nights because, come on, by the time you arrive, I should have it all figured out, right? Wrong again. You came into this world with colic, screaming for hours on end, and I found myself crying right alongside you. Your older siblings would often join in, waking from their naps and turning our home into a chaotic circus. Forget about the idea of sleeping when the baby sleeps — not with two toddlers in the mix. I was completely outnumbered.
Breastfeeding? Well, we didn’t figure that out for nearly three months. My poor breasts swelled to epic proportions (thanks to all those toddler leftovers), and every time I unsnapped my nursing bra, it felt like a game of Jack in the Box — only instead of a toy popping out, it was milk spraying everywhere. And let’s not forget that you were allergic to dairy, forcing me to give up sour cream, cheese, and ice cream for what felt like an eternity. Because why not add insult to injury? I couldn’t even step out because there was no time to pump with three kids. The one time I attempted it, your brother cranked the breast pump to full blast. I still wake up in a cold sweat thinking about that moment.
When it came to potty training, I expected you to be eager, having seen your siblings use the big potty every day. But no, you found it far more entertaining to take off your diaper and poop on the floor instead. I’m pretty sure I caught you giving the toilet the finger more than once.
And when you hit the age where temper tantrums are the norm, you really let loose. You were just trying to make your voice heard, but suddenly I had a 2-year-old who could throw furniture like it was nothing. I can now add “sheetrock repair” to my growing list of skills.
Did I have unrealistic expectations? Absolutely. Bringing you into our family was no small feat, and it came with its own set of challenges. Your arrival was like a whirlwind, and honestly, it was a more significant transition than when your siblings came along.
You have pushed me, taught me lessons I didn’t know I needed, and loved me fiercely. So yes, I’ll take the colic, the tantrums, and the hard labor — but the dairy thing? I’m still not over that one.
Now, let’s go grab some grilled cheese and ice cream, shall we?
Love,
Mama
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Summary
The letter humorously recounts the challenges and surprises of parenting a third child, contrasting initial expectations with the reality of colic, breastfeeding struggles, and potty training mishaps. It reflects on the lessons learned and the love shared through the chaos of family life.