Approaching Again

There are journeys which can be so long and arduous that the mere thought of getting in the car can fill you with a weighty dread. The first time that you make the journey you approach it with optimism and relish the prospect of seeing new things along the way; it doesn't faze you the first time simply because you don't know what to expect. Equally, when someone tells you it's going to take a certain length of time, your first reaction wouldn't ordinarily be 'my that's a long way' and in fact you'd find ways of convincing yourself that it would actually be manageable, shorter, not tiring or tedious, exciting, thrilling.

What happens when you meet roadworks, when your directions are out of date and you find yourself being taken on a diversion which doesn't reconcile with your map? What happens if it's not a clear run but a hard slog; isn't exciting at all but instead dangerous, dull or depressingly longer than you thought? How can you then approach the same journey again with a positive outlook when you've seen that it wasn't as straightforward or as breezily fun as you thought it might be?

It is here that I find myself, about to make a journey that I've made before but one which wasn't quite what I thought it would be; good, great and amazing on the one hand; long, painful and unpredictable on the other. A vast unknown stands before me – will the route be the same as last time? Will we meet the same obstructions? Will we remember all the things we said we'd remember last time? What if we lose our way when we've got to the end of the road? What if one of us is unable to drive or our car breaks down and we need emergency repairs at the roadside? Worse, what happens if we have some sort of accident and simply can't make it to the end of the road? We had fun on the way last time – what if this time it's not the same?

These are not the glass-half-empty concerns of a man about to make a drive from Lands End to John O'Groats. These are the fears of a man who will become a father again next Spring, less than two years after making that journey before, a man who loves his daughter with every thought, deed and breath but who worries that he just might not be able to cope quite so well next time; a man who worries that it might put his relationship with his wife under all sorts of stresses and strains; a man who fears daily about the security of his employment almost as frequently as he worries about his daughter's future and suddenly fears that he might not be able to provide for his expanding family anywhere near as well as he has done so far. The fears of a man who worries that his first born may grow up resenting her brother or sister or that the brother or sister may grow up in the shadow of an older sibling; a man whose home may suddenly become too small and too cluttered but because of that fear of financial failing may have to suffice to avoid the risk of further gearing.

I worry that our next child may not be quite the happy, undemanding soul that Seren has always been; what if he or she is sickly, doesn't feed well or needs much more attention? And what if the rudimentary parenting skills I've evidenced so far, and which I'm really proud of, don't work next time? What if we have a boy and he gets frustrated that I'm not able to teach him about sport, war games, games consoles or any other 'boy stuff' because I've never been any good at those things? What if Seren and her sibling aren't friends like we hope they might be? And what if it's twins?

When we were first asked when we'd be having another child – gosh, that question must have been posed perhaps 30 seconds after Seren was delivered, I'm sure – my initial reaction was one of unrestrained panic, and my principal concern was that I wouldn't know how to love a second child; do I grow another heart to love that child or must I split my love for Seren further? It sounds like a terribly bleak question, as of course, like everyone else facing this situation, I will love that child implicitly; I just don’t know how to do this without upsetting Seren, who is not spoilt as such, but is certainly benefiting from our total focus on her for the past year. I still don't know how to remove this concern, but I'm hoping it will resolve itself over the next six months. I just don't want either Seren or her brother or sister to feel that we don't love them individually less than 100%. Equally, I don't want Seren to resent us for bringing another child into her world, in much the same way that a cat reacts aggressively to an invasion of their territory by another feline.

Seren has the benefit of a cousin just a year younger than herself which will hopefully get her used to the idea of another child in the Smith household. So far, there has been a pronounced uneasiness on Seren’s behalf toward Mia. She gets very upset when she sees her mother feeding or cuddling this other baby in front of her. We can only hope that by increasing Seren’s exposure to another small child in the time until her brother or sister arrives, this will make her less perturbed at not having the monopoly on all the attention.

I am torn in two – elated, truly over the moon about becoming a dad again so soon after Seren. I know that pregnancy, although fraught at times, had some incredible high points, and I can't wait to feel that rush of joyous emotion when we first hear that heartbeat or see the crude outline of our child at the first scan, that intense feeling of pride when that child is handed to me, the rush of love and respect for my wife after going through labour. There is so much to look forward to, so many things to enjoy and not endure. And the thought of our family growing again and becoming complete swells my heart with longing. These are the glass-half-full thoughts that make the journey totally worthwhile and which flow easily when I let them. I trust that you will forgive me for my apprehension and put this down to parental concern and husbandly worry. Just because I have experienced an earlier pregnancy, labour and parenthood already does not necessarily bring expertise and I'm sure that my worries and shared by many a second-time parent. Let’s just call it cautious optimism.

Having started this series of articles back when my wife was still pregnant with Seren, I can see how I was feeling then, and also sitting here today know that the fears I had back then were largely unfounded. Back then I remarked on how fundamentally underprepared I felt. The advantage of having experienced this all before does happily mean that I'm approaching this next child in a less panicked state of mind, although it is clearly early days right now and I do expect a familiar sense of panic and urgency to set in, probably after Christmas if it’s anything at all like last time. The period up to Christmas always seems to drag; it’s a little like climbing a massive rollercoaster, only to find yourself trying to apply an imaginary brake once you’re at the top to stop yourself careering headlong downward faster and faster. At least with this particular ride I know where the twists and turns generally lie now.

Much of my concern this time around is to do with logistics, really. How will we manage to feed and tend to a demanding newborn baby with a child who will still be a bit unsteady on her feet when her sibling is born, and who will herself still need constant looking after? We won’t need a new car (unless we are having twins of course), but we do need to create a second bedroom for the second baby to live in; at the moment that room is an office cum storage room cum general waste bin, and in order to return this to being a bedroom we will need to convert our garage (also a dumping ground) into a kitchen to free up the old kitchen to become an office. The only question around this is of course when am I going to get the time to clear out both rooms, flog a load of unwanted rubbish on eBay, get builders around and then decorate given that it’s already hard enough, with a one year old and a time-intensive career, to get even small things done? I still haven’t finished the decorating in our house, and we’ve lived there for four years.

So many questions, so many new challenges to think about. But underpinning all of this is a wonderful, fantastic and totally wanted event and I don’t much care if it does feel a bit tough at times; it will all be absolutely the most amazing journey to take, and even if occasionally we lose our way or we get diverted or if any one or combination of those things above happen, that journey is going be totally worth it.