A modern lifestyle brand redefining motherhood

Walking through the familiar halls of the birth center, I clung to the tiny hand of my one-year-old and headed for the exam room.


Coming in the opposite direction, a mom with a newborn and toddler in tow locked eyes with me. She glanced at my babies – the one who could barely walk, and the one still nestled snugly in my womb. She saw one of my hands resting gently on the crest of my stomach and the other pulled and stretched downward.

“Don’t worry,” she smiled softly. “You’ll love them each the same as the other.”

I smiled as the mom hormones rushed through me, and I fought to keep the tears from welling in my eyes. How could I possibly love anyone as much as the boy I’d been blessed with last year? How could I open my heart to anyone else? I didn’t know.

It’s not true what they say when you’re pregnant with your second child. Not even a little. You won’t love them both the same. There will be days when one needs you, and the other wants only to push you away. There will be days when one self-assuredly ventures out on his own while the other stays close to your breast.

There will be days, long days, many days, filled with yelling and fighting and laughter and tears and sticky sweet snuggles. They will become monsters and firemen, doctors and bad guys, princesses and mommies.

You won’t love them both the same because these two children aren’t the same. You won’t love them both the same because they don’t need you both the same. Don’t be afraid though. You will love them. You will love them fiercely and entirely and with every fiber of your being. And their differences, their quirks and strengths, their faults and follies, will worm their way right into your heart. 

Our first child was planned meticulously. We timed my ovulation and tracked my basal temperature. I knew the estimated due date for every upcoming cycle. I obsessed over the tiniest details. When we got pregnant right away, I did everything by the book. When we found out it was the boy we’d both secretly hoped for, we were over the moon.

He was born in October, so I had the whole winter to cuddle that tiny little thing against my breast. The love was easy and simple. He was exactly what I had wanted.

But because he was so perfect and everything worked out the way I’d planned, I blamed myself whenever anything didn’t feel right. When he wouldn’t sleep, or woke up soaking wet, or was sick or injured, I knew it was my fault because I was the one who had planned this all so meticulously. I felt indebted to him for the perfect arrival he’d been, and I worked tirelessly to pay back my debt with love.

He’d stuck to his part of the deal. Now it was my turn.   

Then, before he was even a year, before he could walk or talk or sleep through the night, I found myself in the bathroom staring at another positive pregnancy test. But this pregnancy test wasn’t bought months ago, stored carefully at the correct temperature, and taken out ceremoniously on a day circled on the calendar.

Instead, I’d woken that morning with a start. I felt just slightly nauseated, hungover but without having had a sip to drink. Suddenly, jarringly, it occurred to me that my irregular, still-breastfeeding period hadn’t made an appearance in well over a month. I sat up and sent my husband to the store for the pregnancy test that I threw on the counter after reading. 

“I’m pregnant. I knew it,” I snapped at my husband, who was smiling. I was not. I stomped out of the room.

“I’m going to miss my brother’s wedding,” I snapped again. My only sibling had, just days earlier, finally set a date. Now, as I quickly counted the calendar in my head, I realized it was days apart from when this baby would arrive.

“And I’m definitely not going to spend my own birthday pushing out another kid,” I grumbled, when I realized that there was a decent chance that I would.

This was not how I had planned it.

I spent the rest of that week wishing this weren’t happening right now. I wanted another baby, but I wanted him later. It wasn’t supposed to happen now. Unplanned pregnancies were for teenagers and losers. Addicts maybe. Ignorants. Definitely not mostly-happy married couples with mostly-happy babies.

It didn’t take long to adjust to the idea though, and soon I was just as excited about baby number two as I’d been about my first. When we found out it was another boy, I beamed through tears of joy just imagining my two sons growing up as brothers, a year and a half apart, and best friends.

The pregnancy was harder physically, but easier emotionally. I knew what to expect and, this time around, I couldn’t blame myself for anything, as this had not been something I’d planned. I felt such relief at owing no debt. This hadn’t been my idea.

Even his birth was blissful. When my birthday and due date both came and went without a baby, I downed a few shots of castor oil, put my older son to sleep, and caught my baby in the bathtub three hours later. I was completely amazed by him.

Yet somehow I could never shake the knowledge that when I first found out he was coming, I wasn’t filled with love immediately. I didn’t cry tears of joy when I saw those parallel lines on the pregnancy test. I felt guilty.

When he got sick just a week after we brought him home, I felt like there was some karmic justice due to me. We spent a week back in our local hospital – just him and me – before the doctors decided he should be transferred to the bigger children’s hospital in the city. He wasn’t dying, or even really that outwardly sick, but the idea that he could be, and that I’d somehow wished him away for even a moment before I’d ever met him, burned inside of me.    

He’s better now, but when I hold him and his tiny hands press against my shoulder blades, his arms and legs clenching his body against mine, I feel how desperately he wants to be with me. I wonder if it’s because I love him back with the same desperation. I yearn for his affection. I savor his quiet moments.

I can never love him hard enough to erase that moment when I wished he wouldn’t be.

He climbs up my body, clawing, all bony nubs and sinew. He clutches around my neck and we squeeze each other just a little too hard. It’s as though we’re each trying to absorb the other into our very selves. My heart aches for him at the most unexpected moments. He’s exactly what I needed, even when I thought we were already perfect without him.   

But my older son’s body melts into mine. He leans into me with the ease of someone who’s been here forever. My arms drape gently, comfortably over his shoulders. The kisses and snuggles are so simple, so easy, so sweet. When he slips into my lap, hands me a book, and nuzzles his nose under my chin, it feels just right.

He is the perfect fit.

Before I go to bed, I sneak into their rooms to check on them. My older son, his yellow bangs stuck to his forehead in ringlets, his face hot and his breathing heavy. I pull his blanket down and tuck a light sheet around his shoulders. He stirs and rolls over, laying a hand heavily on my shoulder. When I kiss his forehead where the ringlets meet his brow, he quietly blows a kiss back at me, eyes still closed and head unmoving.

In the adjoining room, his brother is curled into a tight ball. At the sound of the door his head pops upright. “Mama,” he sighs blissfully, reaching a hand through the rails of his crib. He clenches my fingers in his balled up fist while I stroke the soft baby hair at the nape of his neck. His face relaxes, but his grip is still tight. I use my other hand to pry open his fingers and free mine. I lean in and try to kiss him through the crib rails but I come up just short, getting only a breath of him.

These boys, who’ve stolen my heart. These boys, one sensitive and calculated, the other passionate and fiery. These boys, who’ve always been this way. I could never love them both the same. I could never give to one exactly what I give to the other.

I could never give them each just a half of my heart.

Who said motherhood doesn't come with a manual?

Subscribe to get inspiration and super helpful ideas to rock your #momlife. Motherhood looks amazing on you.

Already a subscriber? Log in here.

I had big plans to be a "good mom" this summer. There were going to be chore charts, reading goals, daily letter writing practice, and cursive classes. There would be no screen time until the beds were made, and planned activities for each day of the week.

Today was the first day of summer vacation and our scheduled beach day. But here's what we did instead: Lounged in our pj's until 11 am, baked the girl's pick, chocolate chip cookie brownies, started an art project we never finished, then moved to the pool.

It's so easy to be pressured by things we see on social. Ways to challenge our kids and enrich their summer. But let's be real—we're all tired. Tired of chores, tired of schedules and places to be, tired of pressure, and tired of unrealistic expectations.

So instead of a schedule, we're doing nothing this summer. Literally NOTHING.

No camps. No classes, and no curriculums.

Instead, we're going to see where each day takes us. I've dubbed this the "Summer of Me," so workouts and clean eating are a priority for me. And also giving our girls the freedom to pick what they want to do.

We may go to a local pool and check out the swimming programs. And we join the local YMCA. But whatever we do—it will be low key.

It will include family time, too much TV, a few trips, lots of sunshine, some new roller skates, water balloons, plenty of boredom, rest, relaxation, and reading. (Because mama likes to read!)

So if you haven't figured out what you're doing this summer, you're not alone. And guess what? It's OKAY! Your kids will be fine and so will you.

Originally posted on Kristen Hewitt's blog. Check out her post on 30 ways to have fun doing almost nothing this summer.

You might also like:

In the moments after we give birth, we desperately want to hear our baby cry. In the middle of the night a few months later it's no longer exactly music to our ears, but those cries aren't just telling us that baby needs a night feeding: They're also giving us a hint at what our children may sound like as kindergarteners, and adults.

New research published in the journal Biology Letters suggests the pitch of a 4-month-old's cry predicts the pitch they'll use to ask for more cookies at age five and maybe even later on as adults.

The study saw 2 to 5-month olds recorded while crying. Five years later, the researchers hit record again and chatted with the now speaking children. Their findings, combined with previous work on the subject, suggest it's possible to figure out what a baby's voice will sound like later in life, and that the pitch of our adult voices may be traceable back to the time we spend in utero. Further studies are needed, but scientists are very interested in how factors before birth can impact decades later.

"In utero, you have a lot of different things that can alter and impact your life — not only as a baby, but also at an adult stage," one of the authors of the study, Nicolas Mathevon, told the New York Times.

The New York Times also spoke with Carolyn Hodges, an assistant professor of anthropology at Boston University who was not involved in the study. According to Hodges, while voice pitch may not seem like a big deal, it impacts how we perceive people in very real ways.

Voice pitch is a factor in how attractive we think people are, how trustworthy. But why we find certain pitches more or less appealing isn't known. "There aren't many studies that address these questions, so that makes this research especially intriguing," Hodges said, adding that it "suggests that individual differences in voice pitch may have their origins very, very early in development."

So the pitch of that midnight cry may have been determined months ago, and it may determine part of your child's future, too. There are still so many things we don't know, but as parents we do know one thing: Our babies cries (as much as we don't want to hear them all the time) really are something special.

You might also like:

When we consider all the skills our kids will need to succeed in the future, what comes to mind? Perhaps creativity, tech skills, or an excellent understanding of math might be at the top of many parents' lists. Social-emotional skills, like empathy, compassion, or the ability to understand another person's viewpoint may not be the ones you thought of right away, but deep down you know they matter.

We've all had those co-workers who didn't know how to listen to our ideas or friends who couldn't compromise with others. We know that in the work world and in our personal life, emotional skills are key to developing and maintaining healthy relationships.

If you are the parent of a toddler, you know that young children are inherently self-centered. It's not some faulty aspect of their character or a misstep of parenting skills. Young children simply do not have the brain maturity to consider another person's perspective or needs just yet—their brain physically is not ready to handle that kind of mental work.

However, child development research shows us that we can do a few things along the developmental path to help foster social-emotional skills in our kids. With a little help from us, our kids' brains can develop with meaningful connections that tune them into the feelings of others.

Here's how:

1. Treat others how you want your kids to treat others.

How we talk to our kids becomes their internal dialogue. We know from research that this goes for emotional skills as well. A recent study showed that when parents talk to their kids more about how other people might be feeling, the kids had better perspective-taking abilities—the ability to see a situation from another person's point of view.

This, of course, is the basis of many emotional skills, especially empathy. Just by talking about another person's feelings, kids begin to develop those crucial brain connections that help them develop empathy.

It's worth pointing out that very young children under ages 3-4 do not have the brain maturity to really understand another person's perspective. They lack a crucial skill that psychologists call Theory of Mind, meaning they can't understand the mind of another person.

However, our urgings and thoughtful phrasing to point out how another person might be feeling can only help them down this developmental path. Then, once their little brain matures, they will be in the habit of hearing and understanding the feelings of others.

2. Model positive emotional behavior in daily life.

It's probably not surprising to learn that how we react to our kids' feelings influences their emotional development. When your child gets upset, do you get angry or ruffled by their big emotions? We are all human, of course, so sometimes our kids' emotions are the exact triggers that fuel our big feelings, too. However, if we can remain the calm in the emotional storm for our kids, their development will benefit. Through modeling emotional regulation, over time our kids will learn how to self-regulate as well.

One study, in fact, showed that toddlers whose parents exhibited anger or over-reacted to tantrums were likely to have more tantrums and negative emotionality by the end of the study. However, the opposite dynamic can happen, too. Parents who model firm, but calm emotional regulation help their kids learn these skills as well.

3. Don’t be afraid to show your emotions.

Many times, we feel that one of our main jobs as a parent is to protect our children from the big, often overwhelming emotions of adults. For instance, we try not to break down crying or become red-faced with anger in front of our kids. It just feels too big for them to handle and perhaps not developmentally appropriate.

As they mature, however, older kids are able to handle a bit more discussion and expression of honest emotions. Have you noticed that kids usually pick up on the fact that you are upset even if you try to hide it? Kids are naturally curious and, many times, very sensitive to the emotional tenor at home. If they are developmentally ready, this can be a good time to have more discussions about emotions and how to handle them.

For example, my 9-year-old is playing a lot of baseball this summer and always wants me to pitch to him so he can practice batting. Now, I am not a very skilled player so my pitches often go off course or are too weak. He had gotten in the habit of correcting my pitching or (more likely) complaining about it every time we played.

After repeated experiences with this, I was not only annoyed but it also sort of hurt my feelings—so I finally told him how I felt. Guess what? His behavior at practice time changed dramatically! The mere fact of him realizing that his mom has feelings too really made him think about his words more carefully.

These types of interaction can become part of your "emotion coaching." It may sound silly but it can make a big impact for kids, especially as they grow older and are more able to really understand the emotional lesson. On some level, it's nice that our kids think we are superheroes, but it's also crucial that they understand that we are still human, with real feelings.

The magic of helping our kids develop empathy doesn't happen in well-planned lessons or elaborate activities. The real magic happens in the small, simple interactions and discussions we have with our kids each day.

You might also like:

Sometimes it can feel like you never get a minute to even finish a thought—let alone a to-do list. When your day is packed with caretaking, your own needs get pushed back. So when you finally get to lie down at the end of the day, all those thoughts are waiting for you. While we haven't figured out the secret to keeping you from over-analyzing every.single.thing. (sorry, mama!), we do believe you must carve out time for you. Because that rest is just as important—and you've certainly earned it.

XO,

#TeamMotherly

PS: We spoke to Jessica Alba and she gave us the lowdown on why she stopped breastfeeding, and Nordstrom is having their anniversary sale until August 5th. Here's everything we want!

Motherly provides information of a general nature and is designed for educational purposes only. This site does not provide medical advice, diagnosis or treatment.Your use of the site indicates your agreement to be bound by our  Terms of Use and Privacy Policy. Information on our advertising guidelines can be found here.