Thriving with high needs

When I was pregnant with M, I told J several times, "if we have a baby as vivacious as H, I'm not sure I will survive."

H was high needs. She still is. It took me over a year to accept that label. I equated high needs to bad for some reason, and there is nothing bad about H. Challenging; yes. Exhausting; yes. Amazing; yes.

But in the throes of her infancy, it never actually felt that difficult. I assumed it was because she was first. I didn't know any better. I assumed all babies breastfeed for 45 minutes at a time, every 45 minutes, and never slept for more than 45 minutes at a time. Ever.

I remember telling my doctor when H was 3 months old, with a genuine smile on my face, "I get to wake up and see my baby every single hour. It's so awesome!" Why my doctor didn't send me straight the looney bin right then is beyond me. I mean, who says that!? I was clearly just high on baby.

And then chill, laid back B came along. He slept in 3-4 hours stretches, people! From day one. No freaking joke. I would sit him in the bouncer and take a 3 minute shower and he wouldn't scream. I put him in the car and could make it to the grocery store without him vomiting all over himself from crying. I mean, I still had his older sister to contend with, but he was so polarly opposite that I actually assumed there was something wrong with him. Whoops. (There isn't!)

When people ask how M is, my first response is always, "He's so laid back." Followed with, "If all babies were this easy I'd have half a dozen."

Want to know a secret though?

He is just like his sister.

Yep.

He's just as vivacious and demanding as my firstborn, and it phases me even less this go-round.

Maybe because I know what I am in for. Because I know what to expect (which is to never have expectations with babies or kids; they're cray cray).

Maybe it's because I know that as his weight in my arms grows heavier each day, it only means we are growing closer to the day he no longer wants to be held.

I mean, I have a 6 year old. She'll tell you. She's practically a grown up.

As long as sweet M is tucked into somebody's arms, he's happy. Tucked into the crevice of my arm or laying on my chest, he'll sleep for two hour stretches. (J just side-carred the crib to our bed after I asked him to. At this point, he's just going through the motions, he isn't fooled. He knows that baby will never truly sleep in that crib. We both know it. And at the end of the day, we both want that tiny, warm body cuddled with us at night anyway. That's our baby.)

I've also given myself a lot more grace since M came into the world.

Our meals have been wholly simplified. I enjoy cooking nice, elaborate meals for my family. But in this season, it's not going to happen. I hired someone to clean the house. Yep: open mouth, insert foot. I always said I'd never do that. If I'm home all day, I should be able to clean the house, right? Wrong. I've got three kids who I'd rather spend my time with. And I'm okay with that. In this season of life, I'm okay having help so that I can spend more time playing with my children. Because some day I will have all the time in the world to clean my house, and I know I will miss it painfully.

It's all ready going by so fast. I'm floored so many days that I have a 6 year old. And just this week I made arrangements for B's 5th birthday party. I repeat, B's 5th birthday! Oh man, one whole hand full. How can that be? Him turning 5 is more jarring than H being 6. My wee, laid back, peaceful little baby is nearly 5. An energetic, sensitive, hilarious, almost-5 year old.

And M. Sweet M. M who doesn't sleep. M who doesn't like to be put down. M who has given me a run for my money in the feeding department. M who just keeps growing like he doesn't realize he's my itsy bitsy baby. Sweet, lovely, wriggly M. My wise little dude.

He's just as vivacious as his sister.

But I have the ability to meet his needs, as emotionally and physically depleting as they may end up being some day, just like I do his sister's. It's kind of the same way as when you have only one child, you wonder how in the world you could every love another human as much as that one? And then  you have a second and realize your love has grown exponentially, it hasn't been divided at all. That's how it works with meeting their needs, too.

I had days before there was M where I wondered how I could ever meet the needs of a third child. I felt like I was so stretched thin with only two, that I was on the brink of not being quite enough, what would happen with a whole other person being dependent on me? But then there he was, and there I was. And it was just like I'd been doing it all along. Some days I do feel stretched thin, some days I wonder if it's enough, but never any more so than I felt when I had just one; because those are feelings you have no matter how many small progenies you have, I suppose.

So we have another baby as vivacious as H, and we are doing better than surviving. We're thriving.