Several months ago, I found out I was pregnant with my second child. I was ecstatic. But in the following weeks as my body began the natural process of growing this amazing creature inside me, I didn’t realize there were surprises that came along with a second pregnancy- things I rarely heard from other mothers.
First off- yes, everyone says second pregnancies are nothing like the first. Pregnancies are not all created equal. But, I still expected the novelty and mystery to now be replaced by experience, wisdom, and a divine goddess-like ability to own my inner pregnaciousness.
That was not the case.
My body went through a whirlwind of emotions- raging hormones more unrestrained than the first time. I experienced fatigue that left me bedridden on many days. I felt immense guilt for not spending enough time with my 2 year-old, often mustering up only enough energy to get through my workday, sometimes parking street side in a dark alley like a hobo so that I can sleep in my car after a day at the office.
Amidst the physical limitations, I also found myself negotiating some personal issues with being a second time mom. When you have one kid in tow, you still find the occasional moments of B.C. freedom (before child) , but once you are A.C. plus 1 you are a full-on mother. No longer do you have the luxury of not blinking when you flash your plastic at the Nordstrom counter to buy that ridiculous pair of stilettos and disgustingly overpriced designer bag. Now you’re calculating diapers, food, toys, daycare expenses (times two) and wondering why you even deserve that Elizabeth & James dress that will only be fondled by greasy hands and drooling mouths- and not the flattering way either.
I struggled with hitting a creative block and completely checked out. Feeling over-fatigued and over-thinking my identity. I was hydroplaning the parallel of who I wanted to be and who I would soon become. My body and my ambition were so disconnected on many days.
And so, I stopped writing altogether.
For 4 months I struggled internally with my sense of self, my ability-or in this case inability to write. Was I procrastinating or was I truly too tired to think?
Eventually the obsessive pondering led me to a deep reflective retreat of daily meditation, visualization, and writing in my gratitude journal. Oh and a corny “Positive Quote of the Day” book, which was surprisingly refreshing on days I didn’t want to get out of bed.
I’m still not sure if it was one or all of these things but at some point, I began to let go and harness an acceptance for where I was, unknowingly freeing myself from expectations, control, and order.
I now have only 4 months left and I am slowly realizing that with life, timing is everything. The guilt of hitting a creative block or not having the strength to accomplish what I want (yet), is forgivable and my hesitation on “me time” and luxury items will resolve itself. That perhaps in time, I will be able to break into the newfound 2nd-time motherhood the way you break into a pair of uncomfortable new Louboutins- when the leather soon takes shape and molds your precious feet to become a part of you and something you can’t live without.
So I open back up my laptop and begin writing the only thing I can write about- the realization that who and where I am at this moment is OK. That many answers are unanswered because they will get results when the timing is right. And that being undefined is only a part of my personal journey to which I regroup, get ready and have hope that in a moment’s time, I will be redefined.