Irish Twins...

"You're 14 weeks pregnant, Barb."  Did I hear right?  This could not be...I had a five month old baby a home!  Impossible!  Someone got the test wrong!  Check again!

But no, it was true. One time...one time unprotected sex and I got pregnant.  No one gets pregnant 4 weeks after having a baby.  Honestly!  But there I was 5 months post-pregnancy and knocked up again!  I was not happy...and that is the honest to God truth!

I was only planning to have one child.  Not because I didn't like children, quite the contrary.  But I was very fearful about being a mother.  I wasn't sure I could do a good job and I didn't want to be responsible for screwing up my own child's life.  Hubby had convinced me that maybe...just maybe I could do a decent job raising one.  So, I'd agreed and I already had my hands full with my first born, Jamie. And now... there were going to be two... Irish Twins!  I couldn't do it!!

I wanted to run from this and would have if it were possible, but the only option (late term abortion) was absolutely not an option.  So, despite my fears and many selfish ways, I stifled my dread, put on my "big girl" panties and forged ahead.  I was determined I could get through this...

I dug my heels in, got down into the trenches and toughed it out.  But whoa to my Jamie, Hubby and my unborn child!

So, I dutifully took care of business, but where did loving mommy and sweet wife go?  I felt so alone and so miserable. No matter how much I wanted to look forward to another baby; self pity kept getting in my way.  My sister was the only person that I expressed the full extent of my unhappiness and ...oh, did I whine to her...day after day, after day...

until one day...she had enough.  She told me to smarten up.  She asked me if Hubby had raped me?  She asked if I wanted to do to this unborn child what was done to her (she hadn't been wanted by our mother)?  She asked if I intended to blame and be miserable (like our mother), accusing this child of ruining my well-planned life?  She handed me the tough love no one else dared...and I thank her to this day.

I cried then and for many days later.  My dearest sister opened the flood gates and all my fears and insecurities poured out.  I held my Jamie and cried in remorse for being so resentful toward her future brother or sister.  I hated being fearful and weak, but I just couldn't imagine having two babies needing me; expecting me to be a good mother.  I just didn't think I was capable.  So...

I cried and I prayed for weeks, until...finally after a particularly difficult day with my teething baby girl, I raised my swollen eyes to Heaven and pleaded with God to change my heart.  I'd like to say that a miracle happened in that moment, but it did not.  However, in time I felt something break inside me like a poison being released.  All the bitterness, self-pity and resentment  finally seeped away...and a quiet calm fell over me.

In that moment, I knew...I knew...I was going to be okay.  We were going to be okay.

I felt the baby kick and for the first time in this pregnancy I felt something new; anticipation!  There were more kicks and lots of restless movements as if the baby could tell something was different. Something worth dancing over.  I wondered who this precious, little person would be?  What should I name her?  What will she be like?  How much Jamie needed a little sister...

Call it wishful thinking or revealed from God, but I knew in that moment the baby was another little girl and that made me surprisingly joyful.

Hubby and I chose the name Kelly for the baby; he said it would fit a boy or girl, while I secretly smiled.

She came into the world 10 1/2 months after Jamie was born.  My girls were the same age for almost
6 weeks, thus Irish Twins!  Kelly, an Irish name, meaning "warrior".  How ironic!  And a warrior she is...

My baby...my warrior...who overcame her mother's bitterness and resentment, who completed our family and...

who proved to me all things are possible!

The First Act...

So, there we were, my firstborn beautiful, baby girl and I spending our first night at home...

alone...

no nurse to relieve me...

or doctor to encourage me...

no one to support me! 

There's only hubby, blissfully sawing wood in the next room (how did he sleep so peacefully?) while I stared down at this fussy, crying creature in my arms. I didn't want to wake hubby. I didn't want to admit I couldn't handle it, not our first night home!  I was so anxious...I was so tired...I felt like a horrid mother...already!

I'd bathed her, fed her, burped her, changed her and...

NONE OF IT WORKED!!

My sweet, baby girl was not happy and I just didn't know what more I could do to make her happy.  She was stuck with a failure for a mother.  And... where were all those well-wishers who had been in my living room earlier that evening?  The ones who had held and passed my baby girl around like she was some party favour; while fawning and drooling coochy, coochy coo kisses all over her?  Where were they at that midnight hour?  All tucked soundly in their warm beds, not knowing or caring that we were near fit to be tied!

Out of desperation, lack of  a better idea and overwhelming fatigue, I collapsed  into the old fashioned rocking chair that my mom had given me.  There was a slight creak in the wood every time we rocked forward.  Swish, creak, swish, creak, swish, creak...  It was steady, consistent and genuinely...

soothing. 

I could feel myself beginning to relax (despite sweet, baby girl's wails) and my shallow, anxious breathing slowed, slowed...then...miraculously baby girl's cries began to subside.  Her little fists unclenched and I truly felt she was looking up at me in that moment of steady, rhythmic motion and well...thanking me.

Yes indeedy!

I could feel her little body relax, her shakes calm down.  Her little eyes grew heavier, heavier... Oh, bless God and my wonderful mother for the gift of that rocking chair!  Suddenly I knew that we were going to make it through our first night together and in my heart I knew...

if sweet, baby girl and I could do that then we could and would make it through the rest of her life.

I smiled down at my beloved daughter, wiped her tears away (then wiped my tears away!) and rocked, creak, rocked, creak...until we both fell into blissful, blissful sleep.

Tripping over Myself...

I've raised a family, been married 37 years and survived to talk about it! Wowzers!

To the best of my knowledge (and despite myself) I don't think I screwed up my loverly daughters too much...they appear to be well-adjusted, joyful and caring adults. At least, I tell myself this...

There are no manuals, not really. Oh sure, there are books that are filled with lots of wholesome advice from getting a toddler to sleep to hiding veggies in the cereal, but...once you leave the safety and sanity of those published "how to" guides, you must deal with the reality of fatigue (yours), bad tempers (yours too) and meltdowns (again yours)!

It isn't easy being a mommy. No, nada, hardly! And don't let anyone who has "been there, done that" tell you it is...

however, with a little patience (with yourself) and lots of whiskey just kiddin' , it is the most thrilling and challenging roller coaster ride you'll ever take! But, oh, so scary!

Because, let's face it, no matter how well you follow the guidelines of books, listen (or not) to your mother or heed a friend's always supportive (?) advice or...

no matter how cocky you feel because you got them to 18 without either one of you doing jail time; you can never really be sure of the job you did until they're off into the big, bad world. Dats the true measure of success or failure...AND...even then...when is the credit or blame yours or theirs? Hummm...

So, with all this in mind and of course, my vast experience and wisdom (?) I am going to attempt writing a weekly tidbit on my personal adventures into motherhood.  I hope to publish every Monday, but please don't hold me hostage to this as I may have to attend my Procrastinator's Meeting none and then!

Also, I don't consider myself an expert on the woes or successes of parenting.  These tales are meant to entertain and hopefully, enlightened, but basically...

It's just the way it was.