Life with Two

I knew things would be different, but it's a different "different" that I was expecting. I think. Who knows...it's been a while since I've slept. At any rate, I think I like it. Maybe even a lot. Which, to be honest, I suspect, since I live in mortal fear of the postpartum depression that wrecked me the first time around. I'm tired, sure. Despite my urging, Emma cluster feeds at night. It's like she doesn't even care about what I want. So selfish. Nevertheless, she feeds like a champ (I believe it was about this time with Ben that I was ready to throw in the towel because the legitimate obstacles seemed insurmountable), and has since our first try. What do I want, perfection? (Yes. I mean no. That would be unreasonable.) Once I feed her and put her back down I am asleep within moments. With Ben I couldn't sleep at all. Ever. During the day, as well, we've easily and effortlessly fallen into a routine. Despite the sleep deprivation, I excitedly play with Ben. It's been a while since I've been able to sit on the floor with him much less crawl around pushing dump trucks and becoming a human slide. There are moments when I can't imagine my life could ever feel so full.

I do have a limit, though. I mean, who did you think I was, Wonderwoman? (Yes. I mean, no. That would be a bit hyperbolic.) While Ben is completely enamored with his sister and wants to do nothing all day but kiss her and smother her, he seems to have no control over his body, which makes me more than a little nervous that he will crush her. He's not all kisses and sunshine, though. He's thrown more tantrums over more ridiculously lame things in the last two days than in the last two years combined. Also, while he apparently had not one potty accident the entire time we were gone, his success:failure ratio has taken a serious turn in the wrong direction since we've all come home.

Last night while cuddling him before bed, I cried for the first time since giving birth. I sat there rocking with my little boy, who seems to have turned 16 during the three days we were apart, and just melted. Since we've all come home I see him differently, feel differently about him...and I didn't expect that. It's not a bad different...it's just...different. It's like overnight he's a different kid and I'm a different mom. And that all hit me with the weight of three tons of bricks when he sweetly asked if he could play with my hair while we prayed. So the tears fell as I realized that really and truly, things are different forever. And for the most part, that's a really good thing. But there's a little piece of me that's sad, that already misses the special bond that Ben and I have always shared. And I know we will always have it. I will never ever love him less. But he will never again be my one and only. I love my new life with two kids. But for just a moment I grieved a little for the loss of my life with just one. So I cried just a little. And Ben looked up at me and said, "Mommy, are you sad?" I said, "No baby. I'm crying because so happy because I love you so much." He replied, "I can make you feel better." Then he gave me a kiss and smiled so brightly and tenderly that I knew in that moment that while things will never be exactly as they were, they will be their very own version of perfect. A new kind of perfect. Because now I have two to love, differently and deeply.

Every night before I go to bed I go into Ben's room and close his window. Sometimes he stirs, sometimes he doesn't. I assume he sleeps through it because he never opens his eyes or acknowledges my presence. Last night I closed his window then bent over him, kissed him, and whispered, "I love you." Without opening his eyes, he quietly whispered, "I love you too."

My heart might explode.