When we drove home from the hospital with our second child, Coral Anna, life seemed like it would bump along as usual. My husband even stopped in the parking lot to help someone change a tire. Our 23 month old, securely buckled into her car seat, kicked her legs. She said, “I want to take Coral home and read her a book.”
It was a sharp contrast to driving home with Cedar two years before. The light was different that day. The world felt fragile. Blades of grass and stop signs had turned menacing overnight. I rode in the backseat next to our newborn firstborn worried that she would be afraid to be alone back there. I felt like I was under water. Like all first timers, we eventually adjusted. Cedar changed us from a couple into parents.
Driving Coral home, we were already parents. That shift was done. She was just another baby in the car. The sun was just the sun. We marveled, “It’s so much easier starting out with the second one.” I even felt sad, as if the second time around would be old hat.
Then we got out of the car. Two girls with different needs at different times washed away my naïve sadness. It got hard for a while. Really hard. Naps and bedtimes became impossible. I got mastitis and never slept. The dog died, breaking my heart and confusing the two-year-old. My husband went back to work. I paced circles in the living room with the baby in the sling singing “Little Maggie” over and over again while my toddler chugged along with me shouting, “We’re running a race!” I actually purchased and read “Star” magazine for a few weeks.
Then it got better. After four months of playing two-on-one all day, I realize that Coral has changed us. We’re all different now. Cedar explained it best. Coral’s first week at home Cedar would run to us, grab our legs, jump up and down and shout, “We are in a family! We are in a family!” She had never said that before. I had never thought that before. Now, when I offhandedly refer to “the girls,” I know Coral has done her part.
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