How did we do it?

Today, Theo is the same age that Harper was when we brought baby Ruthie home from the hospital. That’s a little confusing, so let me paint the picture. Harper was 20 months old (plus a few days) when Ruthie arrived. Today, Theo is 20 months old (plus the same few days). Watching Theo today, I don’t know how we all survived with a not-yet-two year old plus a newborn. 

Today, I’m resigned to having piles of cookbooks and classic novels on the floor of my dining room at all times, pulled haphazardly off the lower bookshelves. My kitchen cabinets have child locks so they can’t be easily opened, although my toddler has broken the one with the plates, cups and bowls in it. He uses these to bring to us to demand food and milk, so it’s important to him to have access to them -- thus the breaking of the lock. And he’s the third kid, thus the not-fixing of the lock. There are some things that just don’t seem as important with the third kid. 

A one year old requires near constant supervision. A trip to the bathroom might end with finding that he has tried to flush The Three Musketeers down the other toilet if you forgot to close the bathroom door, or every cookie sheet and oven mitt you own scattered on the living room floor. He’s curious, determined, and gives no fucks. 

Thankfully, he’s also adorable. He knows all his body parts, including his elbows, although delightfully, he calls them elmos. I think he’s confused because he also recognizes Elmo in books, and I’m sure he wonders why on earth his arm joint is named after a fluffy red puppet, or why a fluffy red puppet is named after his arm joint. Although there’s so much he doesn’t know, maybe the absurdity hasn’t struck him yet. I love it, and I am not planning to correct him. 

He has learned to give hugs and kisses, to put his animals night-night, to talk a little. He’s the leader in creating laughter in our family, and the leader in making ridiculous messes he never cleans up. His obsession with cookbooks and the classic novels we have on the lowest shelves in our dining room knows no boundaries. Whenever we don’t know where he has gone, it’s there. To pull them off the shelves and pile them on the floor, or to move the piles around. Unfortunately, this obsession, like many obsessions, brings a lot of heartbreak and tears, mostly because he drops the heavy books on his tiny toes. Also because no one else in the family shares his commitment to cookbook piling, and his frustration at being alone in recognizing the complete and consuming joy in cookbook organization overtakes him sometimes, and leads to loud, unreasonable tantrums. 

All of that to say, he’s a total toddler. A giant mess and a bundle of pure love in a 25 pound sticky, squishy body. He’s the third toddler we’ve had, and each of them fit that description. Or at least I think they did -- I can’t actually remember a lot of details about Harper at this age. When Harper was this age, I spent my days nursing, putting Ruthie to sleep, waking her up, staring at her perfect little cherubic face. What I didn’t spend my time doing was sleeping, so it’s all a blur in my memory. 

This has been a total shock, to realize that we brought a newborn, with all the demands, sleeplessness, and worry home to a home already dominated by a 25 pound sticky-fingered dictator. 

This is the only picture I have from the day Ruthie came home, right after her first bath at home.

We thought we wanted two or four kids, but definitely not three. With an odd number, someone would always be left out. Plus, I once read an article that said parents of three kids are the unhappiest. 

So when we decided to try for the third kid, we were also mentally committed to trying for a fourth. That wasn’t a question at the time. Theo was a good baby, and we know how to sleep train now so we didn’t experience all the sleep angst in getting him on a good routine once he was old enough. But when we started getting close to his first birthday, we just couldn’t put our hearts into another kid. We were tired, ready to move out of the phase of babyhood. When we just had the girls, before Theo was born, we experienced the fun of elementary age kids, who aren’t in danger of dying at all times. We enjoyed being able to go to the bathroom without wondering if we would come out to our toddler trapped under something heavy, eating uncooked pasta on the kitchen floor, or climbing the cabinets like a monkey. 

We had many late night conversations about how we were each feeling about more kids, and I just didn’t want to do another pregnancy. I felt selfish and conflicted -- I don’t want to undergo nine months of discomfort and couple years of baby and toddler supervision in order to bring another life into our family who could be a close-in-age playmate for Theo. One night, Tommy would feel excited about one more, other nights he would feel exhausted and done. I thought as Theo got older, my feelings would change, but it was a continuous feeling of finishing an era of my life, after spending 30ish months pregnant and another three years breastfeeding. I was ready to get my body back, not into some ideal, but freed from physically nourishing another person, and to rediscover what my mind could do with a full night’s sleep. Our conversations edged closer and closer together, believing in the opportunities we could experience with only three kids, and not feeling the drive or the energy for one more. Eventually, it just became clearer and clearer that it wasn’t going to happen. Tommy got a vasectomy once we were sure. And that was that. 

It was an incredible sense of freedom - for years, our lives have included planning for not having a baby, and then having a baby, and then not, and then again, not again, yes again. Snipping that thread of awareness of our ongoing fertility felt like a door opening for the next part of life. We started traveling more, just figuring out how to take Theo along. We went to Chicago, Los Angeles, Palm Springs, San Diego, Disney World, and more little trips. I started writing again, and Tommy has become interested in expanding the types of investments we do and the type of work we can do with the space in our lives opened up from not having a baby at home, or preparing to welcome one, or coping with me being pregnant and tired or sick. 

Then today, happened, and it felt like looking back in time. Remembering, or trying to, the sweetness of Harper and her excitement for Ruthie arriving. Ruthie was such a chill baby. She would just happily hang out wherever you put her, eat for five or ten minutes when it was time, and then be ready to chill and snuggle again. She was such a sensory joy of a baby - smelling delicious, beautiful and quiet, which definitely made it easier. I was so wrapped up in caring for a newborn, and Tommy was the leader in caring for Harper. Toddler care is not for the faint of heart - it takes patience, persistence, and just repeating the same things over and over. I am grateful that coming up to this moment in time, with it’s peek into the past, I am still certain we made the right decision. I love and treasure Theo, and I’m grateful to know he’s the last grubby, obstinate toddler for us. It’s an expanding sense of freedom, to not have to worry about birth control or conception, and to feel at peace with the decision.