Parenthood - The Second Time Around

How many times have you heard someone say, “My children are so completely different, it’s hard to believe they come from the same parents!”?

As a family therapist, and the youngest of six siblings myself, I can tell you that while the parents may be the same, the family experience is definitely different for each child. Think about the start of life for the eldest, the new star of the family living as the only child among adults, versus the situation into which a third or fourth child enters – no longer a novelty, often left waiting while another child is tended to, seeking an identity of their own (perhaps the “rebel” or “clown”) to distinguish them from the others. There may also be other differences in the family structure that affect the family dynamics for each child, like death or divorce, relocation, or a change to the family’s economic situation.

In addition, the home environment is different. While the first often lives in a relatively quiet space disrupted only by baby gurgles and nursery rhymes, subsequent children hear a cacophony of older siblings playing, fighting, and crying while parents are calling, commanding, and shouting (and maybe occasionally laughing). Baby Einstein videos compete with Spongebob Squarepants, and once carefully child-proofed rooms are now strewn with assorted little pieces of everything.

Yes, I can thoroughly explain to clients and friends how the environment into which each child is born differs. I can spew findings on birth order and the influence of gender and age differences on such findings. But until I had my second child, I didn’t realize the extent of the difference in the parents themselves.

We are all familiar with (and perhaps have been) the clichéd first-time parents – overly cautious, following all the rules to a tee, terrified that one mistake will be fatal to their jewel of a child, whose every moment is documented through still photos, video, and a detailed baby book. These parents then go on to have a second child (or third, fourth, fifth, etc.) who is left to cry a little longer (“good for his lungs”), gets the pacifier that fell on the floor (citing the “five second rule”), and will someday find his early photos tossed in a shoebox with his birth certificate. We think these parents have gained confidence while losing their last speck of free time, but they are the same people right?

These days when I look in the mirror, I’m not so sure. Because even when I can see through the dark undereye circles and past the gray hair, I still don’t recognize the woman looking back.

I was never a wild party girl, but at one time, I was at least a little adventurous, spontaneous, sometimes even silly. I was social and up to date on the world around me. Now I am tired, really tired. I’m distracted by the list of to do’s constantly running in my head. I second-guess any actions that may be at all risky and cancel plans that are too complicated to fulfill with an infant in tow. Basically, I am just no fun.

And I’m cranky. My firstborn didn’t hear a harsh tone from me until he was probably two years old. My second child, unfortunately, has heard that tone since we got home from the hospital, directed at her older brother when I let him push my buttons. I wonder what she must think when she sees the look of frustration on the face she trusts the most. Do I scare her with my rapid transition from lullabies to reprimands? Because sometimes I scare myself. And I wonder, as I’m sure do my children, “Who is that crazy lady, and what happened to the nice woman who was singing, dancing, and laughing moments ago?”

So what will this mean to my daughter as she grows? Will she be more obedient early on to avoid my “wrath”? Or will she instead rebel earlier in an effort to take control from the get-go? And will I ever recognize myself in the mirror again?

Sometimes I think it may be my memory of the past that is distorted. Perhaps I haven’t changed that much. But then I’m not sure which is worse – that I’ve lost my old self or that this is who I always was.