“The first year of your second child’s life is the hardest of yours.” Numerous times in the last year random people have said this exact thing to me. For me to disagree would be to lie. The only second runner up was the first year I spent in Africa—living in a mud hut in the middle of the scalding heat of nowhere, speaking a language I had never even heard of prior, going to the bathroom in a hole in the sand (without toilet paper), sweating more than I thought possible, and eating with my hands. And that’s a second by a long shot. Then, I thought I had left earth and moved to mars.
This last year on numerous occasions I can honestly say I thought I had landed in hell. With a white knuckled figurative grip, I held on to the other thing that people said to me often which was, “It does get easier.” My daughter is a few days short of one-year-old now and I’m elated to be on the home stretch.
Already I can feel the change. It’s been creeping on slowly throughout the months and days as our family gets used to the life of four, both wee ones develop new skills, and the parents find ways to get sleep. I can’t say that there are never any hard moments—no parent would honestly ever make that claim— however I can say that they are fewer and farther between. And for that I am grateful. A huge sigh of relief is mine: my daughter is about to be one! Thank god I made it! 😉 So glad we’re all here.