Book Review: Waiting for Birdy

By Emily

I wonder if Sally will feel like I stole this Book Review from her? She's so bossy, she gave me this book and then ordered me to read it, and because I need an occasional bossing from a sister (get some sleep! buy yourself those cute earings! come visit me NOW!), I, of course, read it. And it.was.perfect.

I was in my second pregnancy, Ruby was just 3. I was mostly tired, and frustrated by my short fuse. There were a lot of timeouts, and a lot of mommy apologizing. And then, in the few quiet moments of the day, the self-introspection (read: self-deprecation). Is this what it will be like? Will I always feel annoyed by 3 year old things that I'm supposed to enjoy? Will she hate the baby? Will I love the baby? How can I love anyone as much as I love Ruby? But here's Catherine Newman*. She gets it. In talking to Sally--who was just a few months ahead of me in pregnancy--we decided, it was as if Catherine Newman* read our minds and our hearts, and had the audacity to write it down for the world to read. How dare she!

I keep thinking of this book. Today at the park with another expecting mother--she's expecting her second baby--it snuck into our conversation 5 times. By the end she was saying, "Okay, I guess I will have to check out that book!" ("leave me alone, Crazy McNutFace!") Honestly, I try not to be pushy--but when a bossing goes so well from one sister to another, you sort of have this urge to share it with everyone else.

Here was the scene: three mothers, two young children each, except for one who is expecting her second--conversation: babies, motherhood. There is something so special about that second child. You've already adjusted to being a mother--that huge adjustment is over. You know now what it is like to love a child, you know better than ever before what is at stake. Does that feeling ever go away? This time, this time you know.

But then there is this daily drudgery of wiping, picking up, wiping, picking up. With this pregnancy, you don't have time to do that whole "bonding" thing like the first pregnancy. Oh, My First Pregnancy. For each first pregnancy should be a First Pregnancy. Ruby and I had intimate conversations all the time, mostly in my head, or when no one was around. Every night Joe would talk to her in my stomach, singing JT's Close Your Eyes. That just didn't happen with Maximus, we were complete strangers sharing the same space, giving me heartburn. I just didn't feel connected, because I just didn't have time.



Then, it's time. You're in labor, that baby is coming and all the newborn clothes are in piles on the laundry room floor and you're not ready--and believe me, you're not ready, but you never will be because when that baby comes, you think your heart is going to explode--because this, this, is even more powerful than you remember. This time, you are there. Present. In the moment. And it happens in an instant--no longer strangers, love coming so strong and so fast--different than the first time. This baby, this beautiful baby, this second child is all of the good and none of the bad, and you thought you knew what to expect, but you didn't have a clue.

And I still love Ruby, more than ever.





*these are my favorite posts of Catherine Newman's, but she is no longer posting here.
Do you think she'd consider being my friend? I bet she has a Bossy streak in her.