So a couple of days back while talking to a friend we were discussing how difficult motherhood has become lately because of the challenge of work-life balance. I gently added so much more if you want to do it consciously as each moment is a reminder to check something within yourself before you go around fixing your child. She interjected yes that’s what happens with your first born. With them you want to be the mother of the year.
But it begins to die with your second child. You are more carefree. You are not a helicopter mom.
Curious and surprised I asked, what happens if you have 3-4 kids. What does the last kid get?
In a very nonchalant manner, she said the mother has no motivation left.
All this in good humour.
I understand that you are probably less anxious, less worried, and more confident. It’s almost like you have taken that exam once. You know the preparation it takes and the pitfalls. You know it in and out. So you feel and appear confident – which doesn’t mean a decline in love. Yet there is something special about any first experience. I have one child and the very thought of having another one makes me feel that I won’t be able to love the second one as much. I won’t have anything left in me.
I am the second child myself, I know my mother loves and cares for me as much as for my older brother. But her heart beats faster for him. Because of the experiences she has lived with him. But no less love. Do you think there is a difference in how you love your first born and the next?