6 Things I’m Not Doing with My Second Child

It is my second time around the merry-go-round.

This pregnancy went by like a flash. It was easy and uneventful compared to my first. Some say it's because of experience, I say it's because I had an energetic toddler occupying the majority of my days.

Seasoned parents normally say that nothing is as heart-wrenchingly difficult as going from zero to one child. I remember how painful yet beautiful that transition was. Nothing could have prepared me for the first three months of being a mother. I started therapy two weeks after giving birth because of how difficult everything felt, and having professional help to process what was happening in real-time was a necessity. And after almost three years, I am a stronger person and mother because of it.

Now as another transition unfolds from being a mother of one to a mother of two, there are fewer unknowns than before. With the gift of retrospect, here are some things that I would not do a second time.

#1 Not prioritising my mental health

In the UK, 8 out of 10 women suffer from postpartum baby blues. 1 in every 10 women will develop postpartum depression. This is a scary statistic. Even scarier when most women remain undiagnosed and suffer silently.

As a newbie mum, a lot was dictated to me.

“Don’t eat spicy food or drink tea.”

“Don’t rock him to sleep, he’ll get used to it.”

“Stay at home, don’t go out.”

I didn’t have the vocabulary, confidence, or experience to say no and that came with its consequences. There was a large disconnect between what people said was good for me and what my instinct told me. And not trusting my gut badly affected my mental health.

Prevention is better than cure. So this second time round, I have defined clear boundaries for people around me. Although putting myself first is an alien concept as a mother, I am consciously filtering out negative energy and drama to aid my recovery. I have built an impenetrable wall around my mental well-being to safeguard it from unnecessary intruders.

But if intruders still manage their way in, I know how to seek help.

#2 Not being triggered by public crying

I grew up believing that children should be seen, not heard.

Because of my deep internalisation of this belief, I was very much triggered every time my firstborn would cry in public. My heart rate would go up, and I would start to sweat. People’s stares would feel like bullets and even worse, I thought everyone could see what I was trying to hide… how unfit a mother I felt when I couldn’t soothe (control) my wailing child.

However, the truth is that babies communicate through crying. If we stop them from crying, we are effectively preventing them from speaking.

After a lot of work dismantling my false narratives through therapy, I now no longer believe that my crying child is a form of parenting failure. My emotional response has more to do with my past than with them and needs to be continually worked on.

Now I thankfully have the tools to regulate myself (and them) when public crying happens. Even when a member of the public shushes us as my two-year-old has a full-blown meltdown on a flight, I know what to do.

#3 Not allowing my fears to dictate my day

Before, a lot of my day-to-day activities revolved around how scared I was.

“That walk doesn’t seem like a good idea — what if he gets cold?”

“What if his sleep routine gets disturbed?”

“I don’t think I can go on my own, I’m afraid it will be too hard.”

This time, on the first day when I had to solo parent the two kids as paternity leave expired, I purposely did something that scared me. I took them both out to the library in town alone.

Was it scary? YES.
Was it impossibly hard? No, it wasn’t.

Far from it — my baby slept most of the time in the pram while my toddler and I enjoyed a sing-a-long session with other families. We then enjoyed a meal together at a nearby restaurant where I juggled eating, breastfeeding, and making sure my toddler finished his meal.

Was it hard? Yes.
Was it impossible? Heck no.

We went home in one piece, and I felt victorious. I became a more confident parent and that was worth more than all the day’s difficulty.

#4 Not obsessing over my baby’s sleep

Sleep is a contentious issue that gives parents a lot of anxiety. I don’t know one parent who is not obsessed with sleep or the lack thereof. It has even morphed into its own multi-million-dollar industry.

My firstborn was a terrible sleeper. He didn’t respond to any of the better sleep tips that we tried. Sleep training didn’t work. He spat out soothers. He resisted every attempt to put him in a cot.

We resisted things that felt natural to us (co-sleeping, contact naps, and feeding to sleep) because it went against the sleep experts’ advice.

But this time, we didn’t even bother buying a cot.

I no longer obsess over my baby’s sleep. I don’t document or keep track of sleep cycles or worry about her dropping naps. Instead, I do whatever works for us that day.

Three months in, we have had tough nights but most of the time, it has been great. We both wake up well-rested and ready to take on the next day.

One day soon, she won’t need me to help her sleep and I will miss it. So for now, we’re doing everything against the books.

#5 Not rushing to get back to my pre-baby body

We don’t talk enough about how a mum grieves her physical body every time she has a baby.

I had a natural birth and a C-section. After each time, when I look at myself in the mirror I will feel broken — like a train had rail-roaded my body beyond recognition. The changes during pregnancy were gradual and easier to digest. But the stark difference of change after the baby comes out is a shock.

Many weeks later, I still am familiarising myself with the new stretch marks, looser skin, and added curves — all of which are remnants of what pregnancy has left behind. Unlike other mums who seem to snap back quickly, I know that I am likely to carry this extra weight up until my baby weans off breastfeeding or even longer.

So this time I'm not rushing to meet unrealistic results.

I will start exercising soon — but this time for strength rather than visible goals.

#6 Not resenting my labour story

Two babies in, I have come to the realisation that my body was not made to birth babies “naturally”.

Recently, women have been fed the narrative that to feel empowered is to reject medical interventions during labour. We are told that our bodies were created to endure and that asking for help is for the weak. I wholeheartedly believed this narrative and when labour didn’t come naturally to me, I was left completely defeated, confused, and resentful.

Being a pediatrician, I have seen the many births that didn’t go as planned. The ugly truth is that we can’t control every outcome of our labour and asking for help when it is best for mother and baby is actually an act of courage.

Every labour story is empowering, even the ones that require trips to the operating theatre. Whether a baby comes out through the tunnel or the sunroof, a mother has bravely birthed a baby. We should start owning and be proud of all our stories.

It is often said that two births happen in labour — a birth of a baby and a birth of a mother.

With the introduction of new life, comes a regeneration of a woman. This involves letting go of parts of herself to make space for new responsibilities, priorities, and goals.

When before I would resist these changes as I tried to hold on tightly to my previous self, now with wisdom from past experiences, I choose to embrace the change that comes with motherhood in all of its forms.

This article was originally published at Medium. Republished with permission from the author.