From one to two.

Nearly two years ago when I was just a few months pregnant with Lukas, I had a conversation with my friend Linda about what it was like to go from one kid to two. Linda had three kids already by this point and was well-versed on the in's and out's of motherhood so she's a person whose judgment I trust whole-heartedly. (For this as well as many other reasons.) This conversation, despite the fact that it was held over facebook, has stayed with me and as a few of my other friends are currently making (or preparing to make) this transition, I figured I would revisit it.

During our conversation, Linda explained to me that going from one child to two was going to be the hardest jump in the world of parenting. She was absolutely right.

Throughout my pregnancy with Lukas, I was stressed. About everything.

I was stressed about Liana and how she'd transition to being a big sister. I was stressed about getting the house ready for another baby. I was stressed about our finances. I was stressed about my recent miscarriage and the rollercoaster of emotions I was experiencing regarding that and now a healthy pregnancy. I was stressed about potty training. I was stressed about work. I was stressed about feeling tired during the first trimester.... and the second... and then third... all while balancing the needs of my family and my job. I was stressed about feeling huge and carrying the baby super low all the way through the pregnancy and how uncomfortable this all made me. I was stressed about what was going to happen to my body as I knew from the get-go that I was likely going to have to have a c-section. I was stressed about the constant heartburn that was so much worse the second time around. I was even stressed about stressing my baby out. You name it, I was stressed about it.

When Lukas was born, I realized the stress had only just begun.

It would have been a hard transition with an easy-going baby. But with a more difficult baby? It felt impossible.

I felt like I was never enough to both of my kids. The first two weeks after Lukas and I came home from the hospital, I had help. Mike had taken the first week off from work and my mom had taken the second. Seeing as I was recovering from my c-section, this was a necessity as I struggled to get around a bit (especially the first week... I'm still impressed at how quickly I healed and how well I began to feel that second week) and needed all the help I could get. The last day I had help close by, I remember feelings of sheer panic while thinking of the reality that the very next day I'd be having to do this all by myself. Meeting Lukas's needs AND Liana's needs all at the same time? Was it even possible?

It was. But not without some sacrifices on everyone's part.

I felt like a terrible mom to Liana for the next three weeks. Here she was, two and a half years old, and she was thrown into this new life she never asked for. (Of course I knew that this would only help her grow and that if she was old enough to make an educated decision, she'd likely choose to endure this transition if it meant she got to have a younger sibling. But at two and a half, she didn't know that.) For the first time in her life, she had to wait for the things she wanted and her needs didn't always come first anymore. She learned how to do a lot of things for herself very quickly.... like going potty, getting things she needed and even things that I needed. She learned that we could no longer do the things we were so used to doing with such ease.... like picking up and heading off to the store quickly, heading over to visit with family or friends, and making meals. She was forced to become more independent rather quickly which while good in some respects, also made me sad at times.

As much as going from one to two effected Liana, it effected her mom even more.

Truth: It was hard as hell.

Truth: I knew it wouldn't be easy. But I didn't realize just how difficult it would actually be.

Truth: I didn't always handle it well.

Truth: I know I shut down... more than a few times.

When we first brought Lukas home, the days felt painfully long. He cried so much and was inconsolable for most of the day, everyday, until he was about 8 weeks. It wasn't until he was about 14 weeks that I felt like my baby was "normal". I was putting everything I had in me into my two kids that by the end of the day, I was desperate for just a few minutes of "me" time.

Mike would walk into the house at 5:45 every night and I knew in my heart that he would have rather stayed at work. It was easier there and I couldn't blame him because by the time he stepped foot inside our door I was emotionally fried, dinner still needed to be made and Liana's bedtime was soon approaching. (Which at that time wasn't as easy as it is now.)

Things didn't start to get better until Lukas wasn't as fussy... so somewhere around that 14 week mark. But even then, I'd say that it wasn't until he was about five months old that I truly felt some of the pressure subside. At ten months I finally felt confident enough to discontinue my Zoloft. While I was more than a bit nervous to stop it and be forced to deal with the everyday stresses all on my own, I found myself quite thankful when I realized I actually felt better off it than I ever had on it.

As I write this, I'm 14 months into being a "mother of two". Sure things are easier now than they were a year ago. I can say with much gratitude that I've made it through the first year with my sanity still (mostly!) intact. Our life as a family of four isn't perfect and I'm not naive enough to believe it ever will be. For the most part, I've made peace with that.

But why was the transition from one child to two is so hard?

Because meeting the needs of two young children takes twice as much work but you do it in the same amount of time. Saying its exhausting would be a drastic understatement.

Do I think it would've been easier had my second child not been such a difficult baby? Obviously.

Do I regret doing it? Never.

Because as hard as it was and as tired as I am, I see the way my kids love on each other (when they're not doing things like hitting each other or fighting over toys) and in that moment, I realize that I did this more for them than I ever did it for myself.

I also realize now that I did the best I could, every step of the way. Again, I was no where near a perfect mother. But that's something I have to forgive myself for because I know just how hard it was. There were good days and there were bad. Sometimes the good were really good and sometimes the bad were REALLY bad. While I haven't always been the most relaxed and patient mama, there hasn't been a single moment in which I wouldn't have laid down my life for either of my children simply because I love them that much. Most importantly, they know it. Because while I may do a lot of things wrong, the one thing I know I do right is love them. Hard and with all my might.

Liana informed Mike and I today that she would like a little sister. I'm certainly not ready to see if the transition from two to three kids is any easier than our most recent one and I remain skeptical as to whether I ever will be. (Mike's already gotten it into his head that we're done so that may make my decision quite easy.) So for now, I'm quite fine with keeping this family of four just the way that it is. Chaos, imperfection and all. :)