Going From One Kid to Two: The Stress Nobody Warns You About

The other day, I was having a not-so-calm day. What was surprising about it was that it was on a beautiful sunny Sunday when I was meeting some beautiful friends for brunch. My not-so-calm days usually fall on rainy or hot and humid Tuesdays. Like when Scarlet has to go to the bathroom at Trader Joe’s but the women’s room is in use. So we use the smelly men’s room and Des is totally a smell connoisseur because he’s still breastfed so everything that comes out of him smells like roses and buttermilk. True story.

So he’s yelling his head off and then we leave the bathroom and go pay for our groceries and I’m having a perfectly normal conversation with the cashier while swinging him in his carseat wildly, because for some reason, it always works. And Scarlet is spilling the free sample ice cream all over herself and the cart. And we go outside and he decides his screaming is not from the bathroom smell but because he is hungry. So we nurse in the van with people walking by the windows constantly. Then he has a near blowout in his diaper, so audible I’m sure the Mars Rover heard it.

And that, all of that, is not the hard part. I love these adventures, kinda. It’s the stuff of party stories and Facebook status updates. Ok, I don’t love these adventures. I love telling the stories of these adventures. To laughter.

So at this lovely sunny Sunday brunch, my beautiful friend told a story about her eight-month-old son having a bad diaper rash and a nurse on the phone saying, “Go to the emergency room!” Which is just not good for anyone. And I overheard this story from the other side of the table and just asked, “Why does anyone have kids??”

I didn’t really mean it. I meant it in a way..but..I know why people have kids.

The joy is immeasurable and unmatched. And sure, so is the pain and worry.

When we just had Scarlet and got back from visiting friends with two or more kids, Cassidy and I would shout, “We’re only having one!” It was our schtick and I do think we both believed it for a long time. I honestly did. Friends kept telling us that when you go from one kid to two, the work doesn’t double. It quadruples. And for me, it’s the stress that quadruples. I know I’m in a particularly sensitive place right now, trying to recover from post traumatic stress when Des was born. And I know I’m getting better and I know I’ll get even better. However, worrying about your kids doesn’t go away, obviously.

My friends tell me there is a balance and I know there is. I found it with Scarlet and I’m sure I’ll find it again. I find myself feeling a bit better every day, and fussing a bit less on Des. Sure his hair is greasy from me obsessing over the soft spot on his head. If it’s sunken, he could be dehydrated! (never happens) And his cheeks are greasy from me constantly checking to see if he’s warm. If he is, it could be a fever and around these parts they treat fevers with spinal taps! (true story)

And of course, I did it to myself. I wanted this life. I love this life. And he’s beautiful. And his poop is freakin’ perfect. His cheeks are cool in temperature. And his soft spot isn’t sunken. And don’t even get me started on her. She is a three-year-old work of art. And for every one stressful, lousy, getting adjusted to two kids while coping with trauma day, there are two days in which I acknowledge my good fortune and my gorgeous family. Honest. And I know there are trying days ahead.

So I just gather the kids closer and say, “Bring it on.”