I read this piece on The Motherlode today and it resonated with me: I don’t love my second child the way I love my first.
While I’m not generally given to self-analysis, I’m too practical for that, I can very much relate to this piece. I feel like I enjoy Nemo much more than I did Mabel. With Mabel I was/am learning, focused on figuring things out, getting through. With Nemo, I can do the drudgery of parenting on autopilot and leave my brain free to just enjoy him. I savor Nemo more than I did Mabel. I’m trying to remember to savor her too, even if it’s new, uncharted territory and thus harder to navigate.
Maybe it’s because Nemo might be my last baby, I feel an appreciation for the passing of time that I didn’t when I knew there’d be a sibling for Mabel. . But really, I think it’s just that I could do so much on autopilot with Nemo- I knew how to breastfeed, I knew what to expect postpartum, I knew that sleepness nights wouldn’t last forever, etc. So, I could just sit back, nurse him, and cherish him (on the rare occasion Mabel wasn’t around to distract me). With Mabel I was thinking ahead- another child, a new job, a move, buying a house. With Nemo, we’re settled, I’m settled, in a home, in a career, in a routine, and it leaves more time to stop and smell the roses
I really want to be able to savor Mabel more. She’s already grown into her own little person, she’s not a baby anymore. I want to cherish her girlhood in a way I didn’t her babyhood.