I haven't ever posted about how it has been with two children, and I realise that is a glaring omission on my part. Strangely enough, I haven't been quite as introspective about it as I was with Patrick- probably because the life-changing-ness of one to two children is not as shattering as the none-to-one change.
I am back on my meds and have seen my lovely shrink again, as I recognised that I was again falling into depressed patterns of thinking (I'm no good, I'm a useless mother, I don't deserve my children, yada yada) but it was nowhere near as severe as my first episode of PND.
But that seems to pretty much sum it up. Yes, life is harder than it was with one child, but not
twice as hard.
But then, MrT has been on leave for about 5 months now, so we have had two parents around for most of Ollie's life. I wonder how much of my perception of "this isn't so hard" is because I have had so much more hands-on help. On reflection, maybe that's also why my PND hasn't been as bad this time around. Also, Oliver is
such a happy little individual. We have experienced the joys of a baby that went to sleep in his cot without having to be rocked, patted and cajoled for hours on end (maybe just 20 minutes instead) so we have got off pretty lightly as far as that is concerned (a friend of mine has beaten patrick's 6 hour crying jag record: her lovely infant cried from 11am 'til 10pm. And she's not one to exaggerate either. Unsurprisingly she's on a bigger dose of Sertraline than me).
Still, the gap between Patrick and Oliver seems about right. Patrick is big enough to be independantly self-amusing when Oliver needs feeding or changing. He is still small enough that the gap between them wont be enough that they won't play together (except for maybe the 17 and 19's I expect).
Oliver is starting day care next week, which I feel somewhat ambivalent about. On one hand it will be nice for both of us to get back to work, and on my days off I can actually study (instead of dreaming/dreading it). On the other, Ollie's always ben with either of us since he was born save for a few hoursof baby sitter-ing during which he was asleep for the main part. The thought of my dear, sweet baby sitting in a strange environment, crying, and desperately looking around for mummy or daddy just makes me feel very, very sad. However, he is such a happy and sociable lad I'm sure he will adjust quickly.
In case you are wondering, he is now 9 months old (how did THAT happen?), has 6 teeth, can clap his hands and uses a pincer grip. He tries to use a spoon and a sippy cup, but mostly fails. He is neither bum shuffling nor crawling, and with a messy toddler in the place we're not too upset. He sits up vert well, though, and loves to stand up holding onto our hands. He giggles and chuckles and makes "ba baba ba ba" and "da da da da" noises. He loves peekaboo and splashing in the bath. He is still breastfed, although I'm considering quitting, because it is often the only way he will go to sleep. However, I also know that soon, when b/f becomes an optional extra rather than a chore it is quite nice, so I'll persevere. It may also be the last time I ever do it because I have made a deal with myself that I can only have another baby (
another one?
wtf???) once the final exam is in teh bag. Yes, I am as nutty as squirrel poo.
I'd better go. Ollie wants a sleep and that means I have to get my tits out....
