I know what you’re feeling right now. I remember it vividly.
Excitement. Fear. Doubt. Not to mention the pure and utter exhaustion as you waddle around, desperately praying that baby will just come out of you soon.
Just fourteen short months ago I sat in my toddler’s room. He had just turned two, but he was still my baby. He sat in my lap, trying to get comfortable amidst the largeness of my swollen, pregnant belly. I hoisted him higher and he wrapped his little baby arms around my neck and laid his head on my shoulder. And I sang to him…
Tears slid down my face. I was painfully aware that anytime now he would no longer be my only child. There would be two, and though I was desperate to be done with the pregnant part of having another baby I was also mourning the loss of “just us.”
You see, we had been through a lot together, my firstborn and me. He made me a mommy. He taught me how to endure the long, sleepless nights with a crying infant cradled in my arms. He showed me what it meant to have true patience – the kind that you have to reach deep, deep down for in order to survive. He revealed to me what it meant to walk in God’s grace and drink it in daily, moment by moment.
My son. My boy. My baby. My only.
But not for long.
I was elated to be adding a baby girl to our family, but my heart felt so heavy and sad. I was scared… “Will I be able to love the new baby as much as I love my son? How will it even be possible to love another human like I love this little guy right here? Is there room in my heart? Will I be able to be a good mother to two babies? Will I have enough of myself to give?”
Plagued with doubt and riddled with questions about the unknown.
And then that tiny little princess was born, and my fears were eased the second I gazed down at her precious, pristine newborn features.
Ah yes, I could love two children as fiercely as I loved one. Because you see friend, something happened in that moment.
My heart grew.
I was like a cartoon Grinch with a heart suddenly ten times bigger. It just grew. That is the only way I can explain it. It was instantaneous, and it came on me like a rain in the desert – quenching my thirst, alleviating my fears, erasing my doubts.
I know you are grappling with many of these same questions, as I did, and as so many other mothers have before us.
“Can I do this? Will I be enough? Can I love this next child as much as I love my first?”
Take heart, sweet Mama. You can. You will. And just you wait.