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Weeks 29 to 30
The Second Time Around Will Be Different
No two babies are alike, they tell me, especially those born into the same family. Baby #2 simply can’t be as challenging as Henry, who nursed 'round the clock, literally, more than 35 times a day, and dozed in fits and spurts of fewer than 30 minutes until he was 6 months old. I simply never slept. Ever. I was never not nursing. I nursed during dinner (on my left breast so my right hand was free to use the fork), in the bath tub (in ridiculously shallow water, in case he slipped off of me), and through the night (upright in the rocking chair, my head bobbing on to my collar bone), except when I was pumping or squeezing in a shower before dawn. One hideous night, when I was back working full time, nursing for six hours at a stretch, and living on an hour of sleep each day, I told Jack that I was simply going to die. I seriously thought that I might. |
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No, this baby has to be different. I will be different. I will not permanently affix him to my breast. I will not jump to rescue him from every cry. I will put him down every now and then and let myself finish going to the bathroom before I change his diaper. I won’t make sure he’s breathing 20 times a night or worry about him every second I’m not there. I’ll be normal. And who knows, maybe he’ll be one of those self-contained, happy little people whose needs are manageable, who eats every two hours and grows fascinated with his own toes, who can accompany adults to local restaurants, content with a bottle and a rattle, you know, like other people’s babies...
Whatever his needs or disposition, I know he’ll become a part of the fabric, absorbing into the free moments, sharing the rest with his brother, mom, and dad, proving to me that somehow, some way, I have the capacity to take on and give even more. Imagine two little voices shouting, “Mama!!!” with glee when they hear my key in the door.
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