Since I last posted I have gone from a mom of one to a mom of two. A lot has happened, obviously. I mean, there was a positive pregnancy test, nine months of human building (with accompanying disappearing waistline) and birthing of said human, which is a blog post all of its own. So why post now? Well, I'm four months into mom-of-two'ness and it's official.. I have a 'unicorn' baby.
"What exactly is a 'unicorn baby'?" I hear you ask. It's a term coined by my sister describing a mythical creature that one often hears about and reads about but rarely sees in real life. The kind of little person that sleep through the night, only cries for legitimate reasons like hunger and "there's a nuclear level explosion in my Pampers Premium, mom. Could you please do something about that?" The kind of baby that gurgles and smiles and sits sweetly, content just to watch, as you get dressed in the morning. Giving you plenty of time to apply make up and straighten hair. Yes, actually 'do' something about a hair do that isn't a 20-second, 'get-your-hair-outta-your-face-so-you-can-continue-mothering' mom bun.
Now before you get the urge to cyber slap me or give me a talking to about baby bragging, let me say that I deserve this mythical creature. This is not my first rodeo. My first rodeo was up all night, vom-bomb all day, "pick me up, no, put me down, no, pick me up, no rock me, no, don't rock me, sing to me, I wanna play on my play mat, no, what are you doing? I hate my play mat." My first rodeo was the newborn trenches and then some. She needed glasses at 8 months, eye surgery at 15 months, another eye op at 25 months, and she still feels that more than 3 hours of sleep in a row is just downright ridiculous. The unicorn sleeps 6 'til 6, the firstborn tries on tutus and reads to the Paw Patrol and turns her bedroom into a discotheque with all the on-off-on-off lighting shenanigans between midnight and a civilised waking hour.
The firstborn is a pink one and most definitely not a unicorn, she's the standard issue first kid sent to remind you that life as you knew it is over but man is she cute, next level, crazy curls cute. That's her survival tactic. When is doubt, smile and say "I love you mommy." That right there is why she's seen her first and second birthdays, and has a gazillion #oopsanotherpicofmykid snapshots taken and shared constantly. I have told many a person many a time that up until Aeryn hit the 18-month mark I used to look at people with more than one child and think "Why?" ... "Why would you do this twice? Why would you willingly head back into the newborn trenches with the up-all-night laps around the kitchen island and the tone deaf singing of the only verse of 'Amazing Grace' you know in the hopes of them going to sleep so that you can go to sleep, for an hour or (please Lord) two?" And then she morphed from this needy little newborn into this awesome little human seemingly overnight, and hubby and I high fived each other... "Well, we do make cute kids," we said. "And she really does need a brother or sister, and neither of us is an only child, and... and... and... maybe we should try for another." And so we did. And here we are. With a pigeon pair.
The second born is a blue one and he's the kid the books and blogs are based on. He's the kid that slept for 3-hour stretches when he was 3kgs, then for 4-hour stretches when he was 4kgs, then all of a sudden slept through. He's the kid that wakes up and chats away to himself in his cot while he waits patiently for you to wake up and give him a bottle, or a boob, formula or breastmilk, warmed up or room temperature, he genuinely doesn't care, he just drinks and is grateful and then has the good grace to burp himself.
Again, before you get the urge to cyber slap me or give me a talking to about baby bragging, I am not telling you this to toot my own horn. I'm telling you this to put in writing the fact that I can take no credit for the unicorn. He came like this, ready-made. Just like my firstborn came like she did... I didn't break her. "Yay!" for this epiphany. I call it an epiphany because for two years I was convinced that I had done something wrong as a new mom. I was sure that I'd not followed the sleep consultant's advice properly... or that I'd cuddled her too much for not enough... or that I'd somehow failed her by having an elective caesar (albeit post-date) rather than fighting for a 'natural' delivery. I felt guilt around the circumstances of her birth, I felt guilt for topping her up with formula from 2-weeks old, I felt guilt for that time I was so at the end of my tether that I let her cry it out while I drank a great big glass of chilled Chenin. I felt guilt. Period.
And then... enter the Unicorn.
Enter the obliteration of all that guilt because this time around I deleted the breastfeeding apps, I refused to fill in the poop chart in the maternity ward, I ditched the books and the blogs and the age-appropriate stimulation windows, I gave my inner control freak a stern talking to and told myself to just go with the flow because, well, what was the worst that could happen? I'd end up with another firstborn and, hey, she's pretty darn awesome. I gave myself permission to just enjoy it... to breastfeed if I could and to formula feed if I couldn't, to co-sleep if he wanted to and pop him in his nursery when we were ready, to wear him if he let me and rock him to sleep if he liked it, to embrace his routine if it appeared and to be kind to myself if it didn't. I gave myself permission to go back to work at 8 weeks because I needed to and figured out a practical pumping schedule to mostly 'breastfeed' him because I wanted to. I took that great big bag of invisible mom guilt they hand you when they hand you your baby, and I tossed it the way Mariah tosses her hair back for a photo op... with gusto.
And therein lies the point of this post... if you're an expectant mom or a new mom or a mom of many mini humans, be kind to yourself. Whatever you're beating yourself up about doing too much of or not enough of, stop. Just take a moment to look at all the stuff that you're doing 'just right' and amid the circus ('cos let's be honest, #aintnohoodlikemotherhood) give yourself a pat on the back because I can guarantee that your little person/people think that you're their own, personal unicorn. Because, you are magical mama! 'nuff said.
"What exactly is a 'unicorn baby'?" I hear you ask. It's a term coined by my sister describing a mythical creature that one often hears about and reads about but rarely sees in real life. The kind of little person that sleep through the night, only cries for legitimate reasons like hunger and "there's a nuclear level explosion in my Pampers Premium, mom. Could you please do something about that?" The kind of baby that gurgles and smiles and sits sweetly, content just to watch, as you get dressed in the morning. Giving you plenty of time to apply make up and straighten hair. Yes, actually 'do' something about a hair do that isn't a 20-second, 'get-your-hair-outta-your-face-so-you-can-continue-mothering' mom bun.
Now before you get the urge to cyber slap me or give me a talking to about baby bragging, let me say that I deserve this mythical creature. This is not my first rodeo. My first rodeo was up all night, vom-bomb all day, "pick me up, no, put me down, no, pick me up, no rock me, no, don't rock me, sing to me, I wanna play on my play mat, no, what are you doing? I hate my play mat." My first rodeo was the newborn trenches and then some. She needed glasses at 8 months, eye surgery at 15 months, another eye op at 25 months, and she still feels that more than 3 hours of sleep in a row is just downright ridiculous. The unicorn sleeps 6 'til 6, the firstborn tries on tutus and reads to the Paw Patrol and turns her bedroom into a discotheque with all the on-off-on-off lighting shenanigans between midnight and a civilised waking hour.
The firstborn is a pink one and most definitely not a unicorn, she's the standard issue first kid sent to remind you that life as you knew it is over but man is she cute, next level, crazy curls cute. That's her survival tactic. When is doubt, smile and say "I love you mommy." That right there is why she's seen her first and second birthdays, and has a gazillion #oopsanotherpicofmykid snapshots taken and shared constantly. I have told many a person many a time that up until Aeryn hit the 18-month mark I used to look at people with more than one child and think "Why?" ... "Why would you do this twice? Why would you willingly head back into the newborn trenches with the up-all-night laps around the kitchen island and the tone deaf singing of the only verse of 'Amazing Grace' you know in the hopes of them going to sleep so that you can go to sleep, for an hour or (please Lord) two?" And then she morphed from this needy little newborn into this awesome little human seemingly overnight, and hubby and I high fived each other... "Well, we do make cute kids," we said. "And she really does need a brother or sister, and neither of us is an only child, and... and... and... maybe we should try for another." And so we did. And here we are. With a pigeon pair.
The second born is a blue one and he's the kid the books and blogs are based on. He's the kid that slept for 3-hour stretches when he was 3kgs, then for 4-hour stretches when he was 4kgs, then all of a sudden slept through. He's the kid that wakes up and chats away to himself in his cot while he waits patiently for you to wake up and give him a bottle, or a boob, formula or breastmilk, warmed up or room temperature, he genuinely doesn't care, he just drinks and is grateful and then has the good grace to burp himself.
Again, before you get the urge to cyber slap me or give me a talking to about baby bragging, I am not telling you this to toot my own horn. I'm telling you this to put in writing the fact that I can take no credit for the unicorn. He came like this, ready-made. Just like my firstborn came like she did... I didn't break her. "Yay!" for this epiphany. I call it an epiphany because for two years I was convinced that I had done something wrong as a new mom. I was sure that I'd not followed the sleep consultant's advice properly... or that I'd cuddled her too much for not enough... or that I'd somehow failed her by having an elective caesar (albeit post-date) rather than fighting for a 'natural' delivery. I felt guilt around the circumstances of her birth, I felt guilt for topping her up with formula from 2-weeks old, I felt guilt for that time I was so at the end of my tether that I let her cry it out while I drank a great big glass of chilled Chenin. I felt guilt. Period.
And then... enter the Unicorn.
Enter the obliteration of all that guilt because this time around I deleted the breastfeeding apps, I refused to fill in the poop chart in the maternity ward, I ditched the books and the blogs and the age-appropriate stimulation windows, I gave my inner control freak a stern talking to and told myself to just go with the flow because, well, what was the worst that could happen? I'd end up with another firstborn and, hey, she's pretty darn awesome. I gave myself permission to just enjoy it... to breastfeed if I could and to formula feed if I couldn't, to co-sleep if he wanted to and pop him in his nursery when we were ready, to wear him if he let me and rock him to sleep if he liked it, to embrace his routine if it appeared and to be kind to myself if it didn't. I gave myself permission to go back to work at 8 weeks because I needed to and figured out a practical pumping schedule to mostly 'breastfeed' him because I wanted to. I took that great big bag of invisible mom guilt they hand you when they hand you your baby, and I tossed it the way Mariah tosses her hair back for a photo op... with gusto.
And therein lies the point of this post... if you're an expectant mom or a new mom or a mom of many mini humans, be kind to yourself. Whatever you're beating yourself up about doing too much of or not enough of, stop. Just take a moment to look at all the stuff that you're doing 'just right' and amid the circus ('cos let's be honest, #aintnohoodlikemotherhood) give yourself a pat on the back because I can guarantee that your little person/people think that you're their own, personal unicorn. Because, you are magical mama! 'nuff said.
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