Dear Second Child, I'm not sorry I won't have your baby book done by kindergarten
Dear Second Child,
I'm not sorry that I'm just now completing the photo book from the year I was pregnant with you, and haven't even begun your baby photo book. You turn five in less than four months.
I'm not sorry that your older sister had her newborn pictures professionally printed within two weeks of her birth, and I just now ordered pictures to fill your "Baby every month" frame.
I'm not sorry that in your sister's baby book, I marked the date for every new tooth, and she has a special compartment for hair from her first haircut. All I have for you is the statement I told the dentist "I don't know, she was a late teether because I remember being glad I only worried about being bit while nursing for a few months. I think she 11 months when she got her first tooth?" And I found a baggie with hair I'd saved from when I trimmed your bangs for the first time recently, but when I reached in and my hand unexpectedly came into contact with hair (because I didn't even label said bag) I jumped out of my skin and threw those little baby hairs all over your room. I picked them up, placed them back in the bag but this time with some spare carpet fuzz and maybe a lego or two, and probably forgot to label it again. Next time you might get some lint mixed in.
I'm not sorry your sister got professional pictures for every season and holiday, and it was enough for me to remember to put you in pastel colored clothing for Easter one year.
I'm not sorry you didn't get as much one-on-one time with me as your sister, because I had to go back to work when you were only three.
I'm not sorry you didn't get to do more than nine months of the cutest little toddler tutu dancing and your sister was in dance every week from the second she turned two until we took a year off in first grade.
I'm not sorry I wouldn't put your sister in any childcare setting until she was 18 months old and I dropped both of you off at the dirty gym childcare 3-5 days a week starting when you were 10 months old.
I'm not sorry I took every parenting class, read every parenting book, and joined every online mommy group there was with your sister and the advice I sought out after you were born were questions like "Am I leaking through my nursing tank top? Can you see it if I tuck this blanket in my shirt like this?" at play dates.
I'm not sorry I stopped offering help I wasn't able to give to other moms, saying "yes" to every volunteer opportunity, and started saying "yes" to offers of help with babysitters...which meant you got lots more time spent with a babysitter earlier on than you sister.
I'm not sorry you got more screen time, more sugar, more mismatched outfits, less age appropriate toys, less personalized clothing and items, and less doctor appointments when you were questionably sick or not.
I'm not sorry for any of these things. I'm not sorry because you had a mom who learned that motherhood wasn't defined by items on a checklist, or being a great household manager, or efficiency or social media or displays or extracurricular activities or what those other moms were doing or mom guilt.
You had a mom who knew that mothering you meant wearing you in my beloved Ergo for a good portion of the day, nearly every day, for two years. You had a mom who knew that no baby book would capture what it felt like to look into your eyes during those 2am feedings. You had a mom who knew that she wasn't defined by her Pinterest fails (most of them were), or what baby food I introduced first (FOOD BEFORE ONE IS JUST FOR FUN omg it's burned into my brain, WE GET IT), or if I could remember the exact month, day, and time your first tooth popped through. You had a mom who learned that having the latest and greatest Montessori toy was nothing in comparison to two toddlers learning to pour ingredients into a blender to make their own smoothies.
I'm not sorry I picked reading a book for my pleasure over that latest parenting book because you had a mom who knew that her sanity mattered more than the latest research on positive parenting. (Like I could finish either book anyways.) You had a mom who learned she couldn't implement positive parenting unless she had time to herself at the gym, so I'm not sorry for that crusty, dirty gym childcare where you learned some socialization anyways.
I'm not sorry I don't have a "your first haircut" memory because you had a mom who learned she couldn't fit in *one more thing* into her days and sometimes that meant butchering your bangs after a bath. (For that, I am legitimately sorry though. Next time I'll cancel school or work or something to fit in that hair appointment because now I know how long bad bangs last.)
I'm not sorry your sister has more professional photos of her with both her parents than you may have, because you had a mom who realized her worth and left a toxic situation. You had a mom who looked at you and your sister and decided this wasn't a future I would want for you, and found the strength to leave. I'm not sorry there are less pretty facebook family profile pictures from your toddler years, because you had a mom who realized her beauty and worth didn't lie in the people's smiles posed around her but from within her.
I'm not sorry I picked candid pictures on my iPhone over $200 professional photos when our household went from one upper middle class salary with one stay at home parent to one parent making less than half that. You had a mom who knew the memories were the same, whether or not the pictures were "shareworthy" or not.
I'm not sorry that you got less alone time with me because you had a mom who learned she needed to get a job to make a better life for you and your sister, and she did. You had a mom who learned to value the diminished time she had with her daughters, over the mom guilt of not being able to stay at home any longer.
I'm not sorry I don't feel guilty for having a job outside the home, because guilt is something there to change behavior, and I don't need to change that behavior. I'm not sorry, because you have a mom who knows she has an identity and value outside of her most important role of mother, and who works hard to buy you food, clothes, utilities, a warm bed, and healthcare.
I'm not sorry I pay babysitters or say yes to family and friends who lovingly care for you, because you have a mom who has learned to prioritize making that therapy appointment every couple weeks and going out to dinner with girlfriends every once in awhile.
I'm not sorry. I'm not sorry for any of these things, because you have a mom who learned that my worth as a mother is not defined by what I do, but who I am to you. And I am everything to you.
You and your sister are everything to me, too.
I'm not sorry that I'm just now completing the photo book from the year I was pregnant with you, and haven't even begun your baby photo book. You turn five in less than four months.
I'm not sorry that your older sister had her newborn pictures professionally printed within two weeks of her birth, and I just now ordered pictures to fill your "Baby every month" frame.
I'm not sorry that in your sister's baby book, I marked the date for every new tooth, and she has a special compartment for hair from her first haircut. All I have for you is the statement I told the dentist "I don't know, she was a late teether because I remember being glad I only worried about being bit while nursing for a few months. I think she 11 months when she got her first tooth?" And I found a baggie with hair I'd saved from when I trimmed your bangs for the first time recently, but when I reached in and my hand unexpectedly came into contact with hair (because I didn't even label said bag) I jumped out of my skin and threw those little baby hairs all over your room. I picked them up, placed them back in the bag but this time with some spare carpet fuzz and maybe a lego or two, and probably forgot to label it again. Next time you might get some lint mixed in.
I'm not sorry your sister got professional pictures for every season and holiday, and it was enough for me to remember to put you in pastel colored clothing for Easter one year.
I'm not sorry you didn't get as much one-on-one time with me as your sister, because I had to go back to work when you were only three.
I'm not sorry you didn't get to do more than nine months of the cutest little toddler tutu dancing and your sister was in dance every week from the second she turned two until we took a year off in first grade.
I'm not sorry I wouldn't put your sister in any childcare setting until she was 18 months old and I dropped both of you off at the dirty gym childcare 3-5 days a week starting when you were 10 months old.
I'm not sorry I took every parenting class, read every parenting book, and joined every online mommy group there was with your sister and the advice I sought out after you were born were questions like "Am I leaking through my nursing tank top? Can you see it if I tuck this blanket in my shirt like this?" at play dates.
I'm not sorry I stopped offering help I wasn't able to give to other moms, saying "yes" to every volunteer opportunity, and started saying "yes" to offers of help with babysitters...which meant you got lots more time spent with a babysitter earlier on than you sister.
I'm not sorry you got more screen time, more sugar, more mismatched outfits, less age appropriate toys, less personalized clothing and items, and less doctor appointments when you were questionably sick or not.
I'm not sorry for any of these things. I'm not sorry because you had a mom who learned that motherhood wasn't defined by items on a checklist, or being a great household manager, or efficiency or social media or displays or extracurricular activities or what those other moms were doing or mom guilt.
You had a mom who knew that mothering you meant wearing you in my beloved Ergo for a good portion of the day, nearly every day, for two years. You had a mom who knew that no baby book would capture what it felt like to look into your eyes during those 2am feedings. You had a mom who knew that she wasn't defined by her Pinterest fails (most of them were), or what baby food I introduced first (FOOD BEFORE ONE IS JUST FOR FUN omg it's burned into my brain, WE GET IT), or if I could remember the exact month, day, and time your first tooth popped through. You had a mom who learned that having the latest and greatest Montessori toy was nothing in comparison to two toddlers learning to pour ingredients into a blender to make their own smoothies.
I'm not sorry I picked reading a book for my pleasure over that latest parenting book because you had a mom who knew that her sanity mattered more than the latest research on positive parenting. (Like I could finish either book anyways.) You had a mom who learned she couldn't implement positive parenting unless she had time to herself at the gym, so I'm not sorry for that crusty, dirty gym childcare where you learned some socialization anyways.
I'm not sorry I don't have a "your first haircut" memory because you had a mom who learned she couldn't fit in *one more thing* into her days and sometimes that meant butchering your bangs after a bath. (For that, I am legitimately sorry though. Next time I'll cancel school or work or something to fit in that hair appointment because now I know how long bad bangs last.)
I'm not sorry your sister has more professional photos of her with both her parents than you may have, because you had a mom who realized her worth and left a toxic situation. You had a mom who looked at you and your sister and decided this wasn't a future I would want for you, and found the strength to leave. I'm not sorry there are less pretty facebook family profile pictures from your toddler years, because you had a mom who realized her beauty and worth didn't lie in the people's smiles posed around her but from within her.
I'm not sorry I picked candid pictures on my iPhone over $200 professional photos when our household went from one upper middle class salary with one stay at home parent to one parent making less than half that. You had a mom who knew the memories were the same, whether or not the pictures were "shareworthy" or not.
I'm not sorry that you got less alone time with me because you had a mom who learned she needed to get a job to make a better life for you and your sister, and she did. You had a mom who learned to value the diminished time she had with her daughters, over the mom guilt of not being able to stay at home any longer.
I'm not sorry I don't feel guilty for having a job outside the home, because guilt is something there to change behavior, and I don't need to change that behavior. I'm not sorry, because you have a mom who knows she has an identity and value outside of her most important role of mother, and who works hard to buy you food, clothes, utilities, a warm bed, and healthcare.
I'm not sorry I pay babysitters or say yes to family and friends who lovingly care for you, because you have a mom who has learned to prioritize making that therapy appointment every couple weeks and going out to dinner with girlfriends every once in awhile.
I'm not sorry. I'm not sorry for any of these things, because you have a mom who learned that my worth as a mother is not defined by what I do, but who I am to you. And I am everything to you.
You and your sister are everything to me, too.
Comments
Post a Comment