I had this dream early on in my pregnancy. It was vivid and visceral and simple. I was just laying on my bed with Diego and his little brother. We were all gasping after a fit of laughter and taking a deep breath. I immediately felt this feeling of powerful bear-momma love for my boys. My Boys. And felt it overwhelm me, covering the three of us like a blanket. This was before we knew that the baby would be a boy, but the dream felt right. Half of me knew, from that point on, that we would have another boy. (And for those of you who I haven't told, we are!) This dream has stayed with me, as something I hold on to when I'm thinking about the future with a second baby.
A second baby. Oh My Goodness. So I've been talking with other parents I meet at the park, the store, the street, um....everywhere, and every single parent has said that the second is HARD. And they all look at me and my hopeful gaze and I swear I can hear them thinking, "Oh...poor thing..." Then they gather their millions of bags and babies and run off in a tired whoosh.
I've been worried about how hard it will be with two. I thought having one was hard enough and now we're going to have to deal with another possibly non-sleeping sibling AND a rambunctious toddler to deal with?? How on earth does anyone do that?
I think I would be more freaked out if I didn't have that dream early on. It's like having a little assurance, a vivid memory that hasn't happened yet, that there will be times of pure love and simple rest. Sure it'll be hard. I probably don't know HOW hard it will be, but I love the thought of having a tickling fest with my boys on the bed and then resting together in quiet rest.