Room for two

Having past the 12 week mark I am finally starting to feel better. Finally. I am still pretty tired but I can at least function at a normal level thanks to my nausea subsiding considerably. I have not had to take my Zofran in 5 days which in and of itself opens up an array of lesser side effects that are more than a welcomed change. Anyway, now that I feel better I have been thinking a lot about Tatum and the changes that this baby will bring to her world. She knows there is a baby in mommy's belly but does she really understand? I dont think so. She is smart but she is still a 2 year old. I dont think she realizes the true meaning of the baby in my belly. In fact, she thinks there is a baby in her belly too. I wonder how she will adapt, how she will act. Will she love the new baby right away? Will she think it takes away too much of her attention? Will she start behaving in not super fun ways to let us know she isnt crazy about this new addition? To be honest I have no idea how she will act. She loves babies so I hope she thinks it is fantastic that this new baby is here to stay but she also love attention so it might be an issue. Then there is the issue that I am sure every mom wonders and struggles with. Can I love this baby the way I love Tatum? Is it even remotely possible to love something that much and still love her. I dont see how my heart could be any more full than it already is. It just doesnt seem possible. At all. But I know it is. Then a friend sent me this and I think its beautiful, and it helped me to see that it might be hard at first but it will be ok and yes, I can love Tatum with every fiber of my being and love this baby just as much.

I walk along holding your 2-year-old hand, basking in the glow of our magical relationship. Suddenly I feel a kick from within, as if to remind me that our time alone is limited. And I wonder: how could I ever love another child as I love you?
Then he is born, and I watch you. I watch the pain you feel at having to share me as you've never shared me before.
I hear you telling me in your own way, "Please love only me". And I hear myself telling you in mine, "I can't", knowing, in fact, that I never can again.
You cry. I cry with you. I almost see our new baby as an intruder on the precious relationship we once shared. A relationship we can never quite have again.
But then, barely noticing, I find myself attached to that new being, and feeling almost guilty. I'm afraid to let you see me enjoying him—as though I am betraying you.
But then I notice your resentment change, first to curiosity, then to protectiveness, finally to genuine affection.
More days pass, and we are settling into a new routine. The memory of days with just the two of us is fading fast.
But something else is replacing those wonderful times we shared, just we two. There are new times – only now, we are three. I watch the love between you grow, the way you look at each other, touch each other.
I watch how he adores you — as I have for so long. I see how excited you are by each of his new accomplishments. And I begin to realize that I haven't taken something from you, I've given something to you. I notice that I am no longer afraid to share my love openly with both of you.
I find that my love for each of you is as different as you are, but equally strong. And my question is finally answered, to my amazement. Yes, I can love another child as much as I love you—only differently.
And although I realize that you may have to share my time, I now know you'll never share my love. There's enough of that for both of you – you each have your own supply.
I love you—-both. And I thank you both for blessing my life. —Author Unknown