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The arrival of the second baby

By Celina Arce

Hello! I recently shared the story of pregnancy and birth of my second baby. Something that caught their attention was that I mentioned that I had a “mini grief” about my relationship with my first child and that is why I want to talk about this.

I think that, even though I am a working mom, I really enjoyed my first baby for all of her first 2 years. Above all, because I started working from home when the pandemic began and I was able to enjoy its development up close, giving myself time to cuddle and coexist without neglecting my pending tasks. I can't say it was easy, but I can say it was worth it.

I think that the confinement at home and not having so many plans, commitments and outings made us live together a lot. I was very clear about what he liked and the moments he enjoyed with me, the same moments that I sought to repeat and take advantage of with him. They were simple things that made me feel close to him and that made him laugh or feel loved. Some of the things we did were cook and make cakes because he likes to watch the mixer, go out to the terrace and he would show me each of the plants he planted and how they were growing, he would tell me which tree was mine and which was his dad's. , etc.

From the last months of pregnancy she began to notice the difference. I was more tired, I didn't carry him as much anymore, I sat on the couch instead of on the floor to play with him. I could see that he felt a change was coming and sometimes that was reflected in his behavior. He asked for a lot of hugs and every time we read him a story his dad and I said the phrase “all together” with great emotion.

No matter how many books we read (which he loved by the way) to prepare him and get him excited about being the big brother, I saw that he wasn't ready yet. We tried to involve him in choosing the sister's name, we showed him the clothes we had for her and some other things. I believe that I was never going to be one hundred percent ready and the inevitable had to come.

In the end, between the games, trips to the park, work, cooking while standing, remodeling and site visits, I felt that this girl was probably going to be born sooner rather than later. In my first pregnancy I reached week 40 and something told me that this one was going to be different and although everyone told me to stay still and calm down a little, the truth was it was difficult to stop doing any of the things that had me like this. of busy.

And then what I sensed happened. I started labor and I didn't even know it. I did feel pressure and the famous Braxton hicks but I never imagined that the path was already so far along. The day I turned 37 weeks, my gynecologist's partner made an appointment to meet me because he was going to check me out while my gynecologist was returning from a trip. I arrived thinking it was a routine checkup. Of course I already knew him because he attended my first birth together with my gynecologist, but I didn't even remember his face because on the day of my first birth he was in a different situation.

I remember that before going to the check-up we were planning what the scenarios could be, when it would be better for me to do the PCR so as not to arrive at the hospital without a negative COVID test, when I could tell my mother to come to CDMX without having her here waiting for days, thinking about whether it would be better for me to work until the last day or not, asking for some papers that the IMSS was requesting from me because I had not processed my disability, etc. We went to review and when we finished he said to me: what do you think? You have to go get the PCR test right now. My blood went down! I thought, how? I have at least one more week left to close pending work, for my mother to arrive, to finish my IMSS procedure, for my gynecologist to return from traveling.

One more week to enjoy my big baby who is no longer going to be the baby.

By the way, I planned to go to that appointment alone because it was during the week, in the morning and my husband was working. I don't know why an aunt offered to accompany me and when the doctor began to tell me that news I was very grateful.
The whole way back to my house I had contractions - not painful ones - I think they were from the nerve, but my aunt was driving. I still wanted to walk for a coffee because I had already been craving it before entering the office and I said well my last craving. I remember standing in the cafe waiting and feeling the pressure that made me increasingly nervous. I called my mother at that moment and told her to buy a flight and try to arrive at night because we didn't know if she would arrive the next day and she urged me to arrive so that she could stay with my son. He didn't want anyone else with him while I went to the hospital.
I got home and the contractions stopped, I didn't understand why, but I knew that at any moment something could happen.

I remember hugging my son as tight as I could, I knew his life was about to change. I was no longer going to be 100% dedicated to him (although it wasn't always 100, but you understand what I mean). My biggest concern, apart from closing several pending items, was that my mother would arrive in time to be with him while we went to the hospital. I didn't want to leave him with an aunt, with my cousin, with anyone other than his grandmother because that gave me peace and I felt that he would be calmer that way and very excited to see his grandmother whom he loves so much.

My mother arrived that day at night and I could breathe a sigh of relief. All night both my husband and I were waiting for something to happen (with my first baby my water broke at 1:00 am). All night between sleeping and not, I moved or went to the bathroom and my husband asked me what happened? do you feel something? And I: “nothing.” I spent the night like any other night for a pregnant woman in the last stretch, with a thousand stops to the bathroom, but without any sign that I was going to be born.

The next day I was very relaxed but the doctor asked me to go to his office because he wanted to check me out. He checked me and told me to go get my suitcase from my house and then to the hospital. There was progress, although I didn't feel much and our biggest fear was that since I wasn't feeling much, that for some reason I wouldn't make it to the hospital and that we would have a surprise along the way.

We went to our house and it was time to explain to our son that two of us were leaving and three of us were returning. We said goodbye, we explained to him and he understood what he wanted to understand, he wanted to get into the suitcase and between laughter and jokes we left the apartment and he remained calm. More than me.

On the one hand, I was worried about my son, but I was also excited about what was coming and I wanted to give his sister her time and place. Enjoy the birth and its arrival as I enjoyed and remember every moment of the first.

We arrived at the hospital and to make a long story short, after 6 hours I had my baby in my arms. A healthy and beautiful baby.

It was a hard day, the birth was tiring, it was something different from the first and I ended up exhausted, hungry and sentimental. The next day I didn't know whether to talk to my son on FaceTime or better wait for him to meet her in person, but then I focused on my daughter, on enjoying her, trying to record her in my mind at such a young age, to start breastfeeding and enjoy those hours of being alone, but together.

The day I was leaving the hospital arrived and a part of me wanted to go home so I could see my son. The time came for them to meet and although you always have a thousand things in mind and planned, it happened as it had to happen. It makes me laugh that we want the perfect photo or the perfect video of those moments, but I tried to get the idea that that wasn't the important thing. The important thing was to be present accompanying my son and I promised myself not to force him, to let him decide what he wanted to do when he met his sister. Whether it was giving her a kiss, picking her up, or not approaching her, he was going to set the tone.

We had planned that my husband would carry the baby and I would go pick up my son to tell him that someone wanted to meet him. More or less that's how it happened and it was funny, he was half deafened, he didn't know what to do, he started saying who was who, mom, dad and he jumped into pants, shirt, without mentioning his sister, but he lent her his security object and he wanted to put it in her hands (I loved that).

The days began to pass and I began to notice the difference in my relationship with him. I even think I once cried with my mom and told her I think he has something with me, he's acting strange and I feel like our relationship is no longer the same. Of course he was going to be different. His mother now had a baby attached to her all the time, his mother no longer went to school for him, his mother could not bend down to play with him or carry him. I began to try to take the time and do those things that we did just before he was born, the things that he could do and when we did them I noticed he was happy, although the one he made the most happy was me.

All of this is not to say that I didn't enjoy every moment with my daughter, of course I did. Only there is always the thorn that something has changed, you see your child strangely and you can't control anything, you have to give him his time, his space.

In the first 40 days I am very much about not leaving the house. I feel that the newborn is calmer at home, I am more comfortable establishing breastfeeding and I can dress comfortably. My husband took my son to play games and that way they also had their daddy-son time while I calmly enjoyed my newborn.

It is hard to see that they have a hard time accepting change and having to share you, but it also calms me a little to know that all this will help them mature, begin to control emotions, be generous with what they love most and accept changes. Not everything can be as he would like, I just want to be accompanying him in the process and for him to feel that I understand him. I am also the older sister and I can assure you that having brothers is going to love it at some point.

Lately I think that every time I feel that my relationship has been returning a little to what it was before, although it will never be the same, but the fact that it is different does not mean that it is something bad by any means. Our relationship has changed and matured, it has adapted. What has helped me is having some time alone with him, sitting down for a while and watching videos that I have recorded of him that he loves, reading him a story, doing his nightly routine, making a cake or playing something. .

I think what is incredible is seeing how the love you have for a child multiplies more every day and that having two children does not divide love. We have to stop being hard on ourselves and know that we give the best of what we have and that it is good to accompany our children in what they are living and learning. Let them grow.
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