Pregnancy with a toddler feels a lot like this picture, taken a month or so ago. The current baby looms large while the new one (and, quite frankly, the lady gestating the little Mr. or Miss) doesn’t so much loom as tries to finagle a way into whatever space is left in the field of vision. Or mental energy of the family. First trimester was a blur of worrying, waiting, puking, and trying desperately to keep from falling asleep on the couch while a whirling 18-month-old dervish systematically destroyed the living room, paying little attention to my feeble protests. Many pizzas were ordered; many peanut butter sandwiches were consumed.
At this point, 20+ weeks in, I worry less, though anxious thoughts still crowd in at times. And–thank God–my energy levels are up, which leaves me partially capable of keeping pace with Smudgie’s ever-recharging batteries. I’m also starting to realize that it’s time to figure out how to make room for this new person: in my heart, in our family, and–perhaps the greatest challenge for a city-dweller!–in our apartment.
The heart part of the equation is the most and least complicated. I know that I will love this baby endlessly when he or she is born. But like most moms of one baby, I also can’t imagine replicating the overwhelming feeling I have for my son for someone else. How is it possible to love two people this wholeheartedly? The time I have to spend with each will be divided, so how can my affections not be as well? The only way to answer these questions is to live them, though, so there’s not much point fretting over it.
The next part requires more thought and does leave me kind of frantically incapacitated when I think it through too much. How am I going to balance having two little people dependent on me and also continue (heck, finish) writing my dissertation? Running and taking care of my health? Spending time with friends and family? Having that oh-so-important alone time with my husband. I’m already an inadequate housekeeper at best–how will I ever manage even the sub-par level I currently aspire to? And while LG is a tremendous, helpful, hands-on dad and equal partner, how will we each carve out time for ourselves and each other when it’s not just one baby we need to account for?
I also don’t have a lot of answers to this question. Other than one: Fresh Direct. After years of trying to convince my husband to give grocery delivery a try, I’m finally able to play the trump card. Pregnant mom+heavy toddler+third-floor walk-up apartment. Ain’t no way I’m adding three bags of groceries and a computer-and-book-laden shoulder bag to that sequence. Maybe this way I’ll finally be able to get around to the menu planning I’ve been meaning to try for the last few, um, years.
So then the final place to make room, the physical space where we live. This I can actually address! But fitting a fourth person into 900 sq feet is about as challenging as one might imagine, so stay tuned for a separate post: why we’re staying, how we’ll manage, and maybe that house tour I always (okay, never) promised you.
the urban jungle gym 