The Space Between Kids

Photo credit: Elisabel Photography

Whether you decide to dive into the world of parenting multiples or are part of the “one and done” crowd, here are a few thoughts on the subject of space after baby. 

Not everyone will relate to what I write here. Trying to articulate the raw, messy, beautiful, always fraught world of parenting and the transformation of marriage because of it is as challenging as the experience itself. We seek answers to questions: how to swaddle a baby? How to sleep train? How to potty train? Why doesn’t my husband listen? Why don’t I feel like a good mother?... Should I have another child? Motivated by fear or the desire to get it “just right” we spend hours on Google or lurking through baby forums with strangers. We try to make sense of family as it uniquely relates to us, while also trying to find common ground, a sense of community. 

The truth is, everyone who chooses to become a parent will go through this phase of life in their own way. When I was first pregnant and preparing for childbirth, I found comfort in What to Expect When You’re Expecting and from the stories my doula and birth class instructor would tell of their own deliveries. Then as my son got older, I leaned on the advice from parenting books like Tracy Hogg’s Baby Whisperer. When I began trying for a second baby I held to the timeline I set for myself when I was in my early twenties: “two babies, two years apart.” 

I won’t discredit those sources of comfort, nor will I say that in hindsight I wished I had done anything different. Maybe if things had gone differently, I can see that I’d have a different perspective on what/who I surrounded and supported myself with. But even though everything went according to “plan” I still felt my identity dismantled. I still felt my world shift and turn into new shapes. I felt tender, vulnerable, and dazed in ways I hadn’t imagined. Less physical pain, more emotional hardship. Simultaneously weak, I was also brave, strong, and capable. Despite endless questions, I somehow knew: feed the baby, comfort the baby, guide the baby. 

The lessons I learned as a first time parent were repeated as a second time parent. It never happens the same. I know that now. Looking back, if there was more space between my children, I might have had more time to learn how to be a mother again. But I still would have had to learn. 

Now, I find myself revisiting all of the same questions I asked the last two times I wondered about having a child. This fall, David and I decided our family is not yet complete. Evan as I write that, I feel a slight tinge of panic. Will it ruin everything? We’ve finally found some balance. But I know that our family still has space.

We’ve had a lot of thought about trying for a third child. David isn’t so sure about it (between our jobs and children right now, adding a baby to the mix will likely overwhelm us), but I still look at our third bedroom as “our future child’s room.” I have a brother 17 years older than me, and it was really lonely growing up on my own. Plus, Ezra keeps asking me “when will another baby be in your tummy? “I hope it’s a girl baby,” he echos often. I’m not saying those are solid, mature reasons to have another child, but it does illustrate a deeper point I’m trying to make - there’s still a spot reserved, a space, for another PERSON in our family. 

I’ve also asked myself some probing questions, to determine whether or not my desire for another baby is born out of vanity or fear, or if it’s a true desire whispering steadily from my heart. 

Do you have a fear of aging? If there’s another baby in my future, I’m still in that group of young mothers-to-be. If I’m done, that means I’m in the established mothers-who-are group. The one with my own mother, aunts, and so on. It means, instead of juggling nap times I’m juggling school drop offs and sports functions. It’s a phase of motherhood I know is upon me, but not sure I identify with yet.

Do I want another baby to slow the growth of my current babies down? Ezra will be in Kindergarten next year. Ethan will be old enough to start preschool. That means I’ll have an empty house in the mornings and children who are potty trained and don’t necessarily “need me” for all the little things anymore. I still get emotional looking at various stuffed animals or books that I remember Ezra loving as a baby, then Ethan, and now, having to decide to save for “sentimental reasons” or donate because they are no longer used by my boys.

In the end, I realized that the major reason I crave a third child is because I’m not finished. Before conceiving both of my boys, I used to think about them. Not in a “what if” scenario either. I used to feel as though I was already caring for them, silently preparing until they were ready to join me. Words have difficulty defining this level of innate understanding I had about my children’s eventual existence, but I always knew they were there, would be here, eventually. I have those same notions about my third child. I know he/she is there. I often catch myself having conversations in my head, telling this future child “just be patient, I’m getting myself organized. You’ll be here soon.”

Now that I’m in my 30’s, there is always the possibility of miscarriage or complications. But those have never factored into my decision. It’s something I’ll walk through and face if that’s what’s in the cards. There is also the question of space, not just in the emotional sense as I have been describing, but also the physical. My “two years apart” philosophy has already passed with this third child. We are looking at a 3-4 year gap at this point. While it will be hard to go back to late night feedings and potty training all over again, I’m comforted in the ability that I’ll be able to devote more attention to becoming a mother again. Having a few slow daytime hours to bond with a baby, while my older two are at school. There will be chaos, but that’s motherhood no matter how many children you choose to have. And I’ve still got time and space.