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Dear Little One,
I had this grand idea that you would be a breeze, but, oh my, how wrong I was! From the first moment I saw those two lines on the stick, I convinced myself that I could manage it all. I mean, really, if I was having another baby, it would be totally fine. Who cares that you weren’t exactly on the agenda? I had successfully navigated the world of parenthood twice before—I was practically a pro. Diaper changes? A piece of cake. They even called me the Baby Whisperer!
But you, my dear, proved to be anything but easy from the very start.
I thought I had learned my lesson after the scale’s betrayal during my first two pregnancies. Shedding baby weight is tough! This time, I promised myself I’d do better. But let me tell you, it’s nearly impossible when you have two toddlers running around, refusing to eat their meals, and you end up finishing their plates because wasting food just isn’t in my DNA. I can’t even count how many half-eaten peanut butter and jelly sandwiches I scarfed down while you were growing inside me. Combine that with my tendency to indulge, and voilà—hello, extra pounds!
You might not recall your arrival, but trust me, I do. How naive of me to think your birth would be a walk in the park just because I had done it before. Your older siblings had already paved the way, so I figured it would be smooth sailing. Boy, was I mistaken. The contractions you brought were more challenging than trying to demolish a brick wall with my bare hands. Turns out, labor doesn’t get easier the more times you experience it!
After all that effort, I returned home feeling optimistic that we would quickly fall into a routine of peaceful naptimes and uninterrupted nights. I mean, what kind of mother struggles with that by the third child? But you had other plans. Colic became your specialty, and you screamed for hours on end. Of course, your siblings joined in, waking up and turning our home into a chaotic circus. Forget the idea of sleeping when the baby sleeps; I was utterly outnumbered.
Breastfeeding? Oh, we didn’t figure that one out for nearly three months. My breasts swelled to epic proportions (likely from eating all the leftovers your siblings didn’t want), and every time I unlatched my nursing bra, it was like a Jack-in-the-box moment—surprise! And did I mention you were allergic to milk? Goodbye, yummy dairy treats. I couldn’t go anywhere because there was simply no time to pump when juggling three kids. The one time I did attempt it, your brother decided to crank the pump up to max power. I still wake up in a cold sweat about that incident.
Potty training seemed like it would be easy, especially since you watched your siblings go to the big potty every day. But no, you found it far more entertaining to remove your diaper and decorate the floor with your mess. I’m pretty sure I caught you giving the toilet the finger more than once!
And then came the temper tantrums. You discovered your inner drama queen, and suddenly I was contending with a 2-year-old who could toss furniture around like it was nothing. Add “sheetrock repair” to my list of newfound skills!
Were my expectations too high? Absolutely. Bringing you into the world was no small feat, and your arrival felt like a whirlwind that turned our lives upside down. Even more challenging than my first two.
Through all of this, you have taught me invaluable lessons and loved me fiercely. And for that, my precious little tornado, I will endure the colic, the tantrums—even the labor. But giving up dairy? That one still stings a bit.
How about we go grab a grilled cheese and some ice cream?
Love,
Mama