Not the year I thought it would be...

Thoughts and painful truths about the first year as a Mother of two...

Hello lovely one

How is your heart today? How are you feeling?

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Before I continue I just want to let you know that tomorrow (11th January) the doors close to The MotherMind - my 3 month mother-centred business/creative mastermind. I would love to walk the path with you if you feel called to join us. Find all the details below.

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I have started to write this piece many times over the past few months - and each time the emotions - and specifically the grief - has hit me like a wave that almost knocks me off my feet. Not ready. Still processing.

I think I always will be.

But now, a few weeks after we celebrated my one year old’s birthday. I am trying again. There is so much to say - and a big part of the reason I haven’t written yet is because I don’t know how to weave all of it in… the sheer size of last year is almost too much to put into words. But I don’t have to express all of it in one go - it will trickle through as I integrate. Drip by drip. The story will unravel in it’s own time.

The same, but different…

I thought - naively - that having a second baby would be easier than having my first because I had already made that monumental transition to being a Mother. I expected practical challenges, but I thought that the biggest identity shift had already happened. The biggest death and birthing of me. This time I expected it to be gentler…

I promised myself I wouldn’t torture myself through experiences like I did the first time… the breast feeding woes, the sleep obsessing, the constant external outsourcing of my decisions, the questioning, late night googling… worrying. Oh the incessant worrying.

Everyone tells you that your intuition heightens when you are a Mother. That your Mama knowing comes online. Now, I have always been strongly connected to my intuition - however when it came to Motherhood I actually found the opposite. I could listen, and most importantly TRUST, my intuition in every other area of my life, but for some reason it was virtually absent when I first became a Mother.

But I thought that second time round - this would be easier. I would just ‘know’ what to do because I had been there before.

Errrr…. apparently not. For me anyway.

Just like when I stepped over the threshold of Motherhood with my first born - and nobody really tells you what it is like until you arrive - I feel the exact same thing about having my second. Nobody told me (and if they had done I likely wouldn’t have ‘heard’ them anyway) just how BIG a shift it would be.

BIGGER in many ways than having my first.

TOUGHER on my nervous system.

MORE TENDER in my heart.

SO MUCH MORE to hold.

HEAVIER on my Mama shoulders.

There are benefits to lived experience, of course. I prepared very differently for my second baby. I set up my first 40 days focused on support rather than worrying about packing the perfect hospital bag. I knew - to a point - what it would be like to have a little being depending on me. How different could it be?

As a side note just for a little context… Sophia was born in September 2019, 6 months before the world changed drastically and we were thrown in to isolation. So of course… many things about her first year were different to my first with Vesper - but in many ways it was actually easier because my husband was at home and I had no external pressures, or places ‘to be’.

Birthing myself as a Mother of 2

I thought I knew what to expect in the first year. Some parts of me were dreading it… and others were excited as I nostalgically remembered (through rose tinted glasses) all the magical moments I had with my first. The hours of walking in nature with her snuggled up in the sling, the cosy mornings just me and her, the yoga practices I did while she played on her mat next to me…

But of course - that is different second time round. Because your heart also belongs to another being - a being who needs you no less than they did before and yet cannot have you in the way they are used to.

Oooof… I still feel like I have been punched in the stomach when I think about that.

You have to hold their rebirth as well as your own, because nobody is unchanged when a new member of the family arrives, and unlike myself and my husband who chose this, my eldest daughter - who at the time was 3 years and 3 months - did not.

Her world changed even more so than ours did.

Every time I think about that - about the loss of the ‘two of us’ - my heart breaks again, despite, of course, desperately wanting to expand our family and welcome our second daughter into our arms.

The strong cocktail of love mixed with grief of past selves is very hard to stomach at times.

Different to what I expected

I expected sleepless nights, roller coaster emotions, leaking breasts, bleeding, soreness, healing. And to some extent I expected the drastic changes to my life - but what I didn’t expect was to feel so much sadness, so much loss, so lonely at times, so much heaviness. I didn’t expect it to be so… hard.

Hard physically because my body had to heal from surgery this time, and because my second daughter’s sleep is drastically different to my first - and not sleeping for over a year takes it’s toll in ways that you don’t expect.

But even harder emotionally.

If I am honest - while I knew that things were changing drastically - I didn’t actually want them to change that much. We had a lovely rhythm before… childcare was all set up nicely to allow me space to breathe and build my business. My business was thriving organically without having to hustle. My relationship with my husband felt stronger than it had in a while. We had no naps to restrict us, nappies gone, doing things, like socializing, had become easier. My physical health was in a relatively good place.

Things were fairly ease-ful.

And everyone told me the second baby would ‘slot in’.

Well…

My second baby has done no slotting whatsoever - in fact I think we have all had to slot in around her. She is most definitely a force and I have no doubt that the world will be changed for the better with her tenacity - but parenting her is not all rainbows and unicorns - it has been an uncomfortable walk in the shadows at times.

Surviving… not thriving

2023 was a survival year for me. And not because anything ‘bad’ happened, but just purely because it was a total re-orientation year. Everything I had known and built was forced to crumble.

Everything I expected, had to be dismantled.

As someone who has always had it ‘together’ to a point - who likes structure, a plan and dare I say it… probably definitely is a bit on the controlling side… this baby was here to un-make me, un-ravel me and rearrange me.

From the moment I found out that she was breach at 38 weeks, I started grieving expectations and hopes. (I am still writing my birth story over a year on from it - it will come - soon, I think)

She has taught me to take each day as it comes. To take each breath at a time. To be fully here - because there is no predictability or expectation with her.

And despite the challenges in this - I can truly see it as a gift.

I talk a lot about the contradictions in Motherhood - the both/and - because truly I have never felt so conflicted in my emotions. The foundation of gratitude and pure love for this little being - who has completed me in ways I didn’t know I needed - while also finding some moments so hard that had I been given the chance I would have walked away without hesitation.

My reality was different to theirs

While comparison is something I am acutely aware of and actively try and catch within myself, somehow I couldn’t quite shake it off this last year.

Every post on social media I saw that shared the sheer joy of a new baby, the ‘ray of sunshine’ that was in their life now - the ‘bundle of joy’, I felt like I had been punched in the gut.

Because I couldn’t have written those same things about my baby - not honestly anyway. It would not have been the truth - despite me desperately aching it to be.

Every Mother of two that was just absolutely smashing it (or so it appeared) and loving life made me wonder what was ‘so wrong with me’ because I felt like I was merely surviving.

There were times in the early days when I felt like Vesper wasn’t ready to be in the world - she wasn’t to be honest, if I hadn’t had an elective Caesarean birth she would have stayed in longer - and who knows if that would have made much difference, but for at least the first 3/4 months if she wasn’t asleep she was crying, attached to me and seemingly miserable. Her nervous system needed so much tending to and a part of me blamed myself for that.

My husband is an amazing father - but he works full time in the city and leaves before 6am - so a lot of the parenting responsibilities are on me. Being alone with a baby is hard enough, but being alone with an unsettled baby AND a 3.5 year old - was brutal at times.

I was (and still am) her preferred parent which felt like a heavy weight to shoulder - especially at bedtime or in the middle of the night when I could be rocking and bouncing and shushing for hours at a time to settle her deafening screams.

I wore earplugs most bedtimes for months because it was one of the only ways I could stay grounded and regulated through her screaming. Messy truth… I didn’t always stay regulated and often had to put her safely down and leave the room to take some breaths and remind the parts of myself that wanted to run, that I was safe here, that this would not last.

I still constantly questioned myself. What am I doing wrong? What have I missed? What ‘should’ I be doing better?

My constant obsessing over what was ‘wrong’, and a deep knowing in my gut, lead us to identify a dairy allergy and silent reflux. Then as we started weaning her onto solids we found out she also struggled with egg, wheat and pulses.

Gradually, once we passed 9 months, things started settling. Her milestone moments gave us a little more spaciousness - sitting up was a revelation and then crawling unleashed another layer of ease in many ways. She walked at 11 months and that opened up the next level of independence and also as she has matured her digestion has settled a little and she isn’t struggling with some of the foods - or the world in general - as much.

I have also gradually been able to witness the relationship being created between the two girls. It is fiery at times and I have no doubt I will have to be a referee for years to come - but there is also a huge amount of love and joy.

I remember someone telling me when I was pregnant that for everything we feel we are taking away from our first born - we are also giving them a chance to rise into a new version of themselves and that is a huge gift. I can see that now.

The mantra that I have used this past year is ‘this too shall pass’… and that is one of the benefits of being a second time parent - I have the evidence that everything really is just a phase and while some phases last longer than others - everything passes eventually.

An overview of the year

I have been amazed at just what is possible on very little sleep. I haven’t slept for more than three - or maybe four at a push - consecutive hours for over a year and that has only happened in the last month or so.

All the things I said I wouldn’t do - co-sleep/be a human dummy/let her eat her lunch while wandering around/cook three thousand different meals for different people/put an ipad on in the car… I have done.

I have cried more than I ever have this year. I have also shouted and lost myself on numerous occasions. I have snapped more at my husband and let resentment fester and rot at times.

I have walked with my inner victim and martyr more than I would like to admit.

I have had to adjust my nervous system AGAIN to hold another being in my heart. I talked about that in a podcast episode here first time round, but as someone who has a very sensitive nervous system anyway - this has been another big learning curve.

I have never felt so touched out, so overloaded from a sensory point of view, so on the edge consistently. My tolerance has all but disappeared. I have little visions of being the Mother I want to be - but if I am honest for the most part I am not. I wrote about that here if you want to explore more.

I often feel like I am a crappy Mother of 2 - but then I also know that a lot of that is measured on the ‘perfect mother’ image that still taints my subconscious with it’s toxic grip.

When I am alone with each of them I am way closer to the Mother I wish to be. But when I am Mothering two - it feels like a chaotic mess of guilt, shame, frustration and sadness at what I can’t quite reach. I guess, in time, I will adjust to that. But right now it still feels wild.

I have repeatedly questioned how I am going to get through this.

Somehow I have.

And yet… even as I write this, I know I would choose this again. And again. And again.

I adore being a Mother and the transformative portal that it is. It is the greatest initiatory gift I have ever received. But initiations are generally pretty uncomfortable. Brutal at times. And while there are lots of things out there that share about the magic and the beauty of Motherhood there is very little that shares the sheer grittiness of it and I feel that does Mothers a disservice.

Closing the (second) first year door

When breathing through the tears, clenched jaw, back aching, heart breaking for past versions of myself… this year has felt so very hard. Harder than anything I have ever done.

But there is gratitude, mixed with grief, mixed with adoration, mixed with awe, mixed with a perspective of myself that didn’t exist before.

I close the door of the first year as a Mother of two with a newfound strength I truly didn’t know I had. With tired eyes, weary arms but a more expanded heart. I have been tenderised by the experience and I exist in the world differently now.

I have walked through shadows and seen pieces of myself I didn’t really want to see - but they have been gateways to power and resilience, and radical self acceptance.

At times I have despised parts of myself - my reactions, my intolerance, my impatience… but in these instances I have been forced to return to love. Because self compassion is truly the only way we will make it through Motherhood, in my opinion.

I have hit points so low I thought I would never climb out - and I have spent more time than I would like in those places.

And… I have also experienced joy that has been like no other feeling on earth - I have learned to truly see, and lean on, the glimmers.

I keep thinking of the year ahead and if I am honest - while there is excitement for things, I mostly feel quite overwhelmed at the prospect of a whole year ahead of Mothering.

So… I am taking it one day at a time - sometimes one breath at a time - as I integrate and embody the many life-changing lessons I have discovered in the first year as a Mother of two strong-willed souls.

What did you not expect about Motherhood? What painful truths have you unearthed and had to accept about this journey? What words of love would you tell yourself for that first cycle of time?

I would love to hear from you if any of this resonates, or you wish to share your perspective.

Until next time…

With so much love,

Lauren

xxx

PS… if you need some heart, mind and body soothing balm, you can enjoy The Held Heart Yoga Nidra which I am keeping up for free this January.

The Held Heart: A Yoga Nidra Practice

Hello to anyone who is new here… I am Lauren, a Mother of two daughters, a Writer, Coach, Soulful Business Mentor, Website & Branding Creator, Human Design Guide, Sacred Space Holder and multi dimensional human being. You can find out more about my work here. Please do subscribe to join the journey, and if you enjoy this, and you do have the means, I would be so grateful if you chose to support my creations for £5 a month…