By Kimberly Blakely, soon-to-be mama of two
Much has been said in the last few weeks about the “Octo Mom,” Nadya Suleman. (For the record, this nickname actually kind of bugs me – makes her sound Medusa-esque.)
I’m not going to get into the debate about whether she should have undergone selective termination or whether the doctor should have implanted all of those embryos in the first place … but I can’t stop thinking about her pledge to drop everything in her life and be there for her children. Even if money were no object (and by all accounts in the Suleman case, it is decidedly an issue), and all Nadya Suleman had to do all day and all night was be with these children, could she possibly meet the needs of so many babies, some of whom have disabilities and will no doubt need specialized care?
How can she possibly get to know all of the 14 little people who will inhabit her home, each one of them depending on her for everything under the sun?
For comparison’s sake, in Mojo’s accredited preschool program, there are a maximum of 12 kids – with TWO teachers, for heaven’s sake, and even then, there is obvious confusion about what child needs/knows/has/likes.
I very well could have this all wrong. After all, I know of several large families that operate smoothly and efficiently and in which everyone seems happy and cooperative. And, as an only child who sometimes longed to be a Walton (not as in Sam Walton, but rather the John Boy, Mary Ellen, Jason, Elizabeth etc. Walton clan), I think I can appreciate the joys of having many siblings.
Aaaaannnnnd … of course, this relates to me because here I go again, stressing myself out about how I’m going to do justice to two children. I realized long ago that there will be many occasions on which I’ll have to deny one to meet the needs of the other. To all you parents who have been in my shoes before, going from one to two – and I know there are many, many, many of you out there! – is it as hard as I’m afraid it will be?
Much of what I’ve read has suggested that when you bring a new baby home you should be quick to put the baby in a crib. The thinking goes something like this: The new baby is not accustomed to having your undivided attention and will fare better than the older child who is used to being your everything. Is this true? I guess it makes sense in a way … but oh, the injustice of being born second!
My Mojo is still being very sweet about his soon-to-arrive little sister. He was the first – and, thus far, the only – person besides me to feel her kick, and the smile on his face was priceless. A few minutes after he felt her move, he announced that he had thought of a new name for her: Love. Which turned his mama into a big mushy-mush puddle. Awwwwww!
Later that day, we dashed into a children’s clothing store and he asked what the front of a pink onesie said. It said, “Little Sister,” and Mojo insisted that we buy it. How could I say no?
I can’t tell you how much I’m looking forward to watching my kids interact, but I’m sure Mojo won’t always be this loving toward the little girl who’s about to invade his world. I’m nervous about the transition, but I’m hoping he will (mostly) be as happy to have a sibling as we are to give him one. Tell me he will, somebody. Please? ; )
Oh, Kim… the adventures you are about to have. As mama of 3, I can confirm that you’ll often feel torn and guilty and all of that fun stuff. But don’t feel guilty for holding that precious newborn. Kids seem to know what’s right and natural, and nothing is more natural than a mom holding her new baby. I used to tell my kids that this is how I held them when they were brand new, and they kind of liked that.
Don’t expect Mojo to care much about the baby after the initial novelty wears off. When my firstborn realized that the baby couldn’t throw a ball or play with trucks, he was no longer interested and he didn’t get interested again until at least 6 months later. But it does happen… and when it does – oh, it’s magic. You’ll see them start to love each other, look out for one another. It’s pretty incredible. Enjoy the ride.
And e-mail me when you’re beating yourself up about something you can’t help. I’ll talk you off the ledge.
–gwen