Now We Are Four

By Joe Barker
 

We've just added a daughter to our family, and while we’re feeling exhausted, we’re very pleased with ourselves. The arrival of a second child has been very different to the arrival of a first child. Although the sense of bewilderment that they would entrust us with something so fragile was familiar, much else was strange. Those people who told us that once you have one child, a second isn’t that much harder were either lying or confusing raising children with something altogether easier like lion taming. The extra challenge of a second child starts even before conception.

Let's talk about sex

I think we all understand the basic mechanics of getting pregnant, and if not, go ask mommy or daddy because I'm not explaining it here. Initially I thought it might be fun and encourage us to have more, what I shall euphemistically call, quality time together. I was wrong—it was awful. Pretty soon I was exhausted and reduced to quietly hoping that if I fell asleep quickly enough, I wouldn't have to perform. A typical evening’s conversation might go something like this: “Do we really have to have sex again? You promised me that if we did it this morning we wouldn't have to do it again tonight.” When that didn’t work I’d protest: “You can't still be ovulating.” Finally I’d give in: “OK, OK, but I'm not going to enjoy it.” At which point my wife would assure me that I didn't need to enjoy it, and that she certainly wouldn't. Hardly the happy marriage-affirming action we were hoping for. 

It was a merciful relief when we fell pregnant and could stop having sex. We eventually gave it another go and even discovered it could be enjoyable. Then the morning sickness hit and sex was canceled. I would’ve felt bad, but pretty much everything was making my wife feel sick at this point. She even turned down cake, which had me worried for a moment.

This feast or famine approach to sex was hardly unique to a subsequent pregnancy, but the presence of a first child in the house certainly made it more challenging. When we were trying to conceive, Marty would choose to take hours to get to sleep, then wake up screaming for Daddy just as we were approaching the critical moment. Nothing like spending 20 minutes wrestling a small child back into bed to really put a dampener on the mood. But no excuses would be accepted and we’d have to start the whole weary process again.

I could go on but I don't want to give the impression that I'm obsessed with sex, and there were other features of this pregnancy I want to touch on. 

Let me help you with that

Morning sickness and indeed pregnancy in general looks pretty rough. A cruel trick played on the female population. First time round I was full of sympathy and nothing was too much trouble. I would happily traipse round our local 7-Eleven in search of the one variety of hard candy my wife thought she might be able to stomach. I’d solicitously suggest my wife rest on the sofa while I brought her cups of herbal tea and searched for tasty snacks she might be tempted by. If she wanted a foot rub then a foot rub she would have. When cramps or allergies would wake her in the night, I’d sympathetically share her sleepless hours.

The second time around my attitude was rather different. I considered the time my wife spent lying on the couch feeling sick to be little better than malingering. As for hard candies, if she wanted them, she could go buy them herself, and while she was at it, why not take Marty too? He'd like the chance to play with Mummy again. If anyone deserved foot rubs or tasty snacks, I felt it was me after another broken night’s sleep with Marty and three hours of chasing him around Lumpini Park. As for waking me up with allergies, I was a strong “no” to that—if she was going to sneeze, she could go sleep in the spare room. Marty was providing all the abrupt middle-of-the-night wakings I needed. 

As I made very clear to anyone who would listen, it seemed like I spent nine months putting Marty to bed, soothing him in the night, getting him up well before the break of day, and then entertaining him for hours, while mummy just about found the energy for work, but not much more. Rarely, I imagine, can a husband have complained quite so much during a pregnancy. Not quite the same loving tone that we heard with the first pregnancy, and certainly not the consideration that I'm sure we all agree my wife deserved. But very much the reality of her experience. If she wanted sympathy, she should have had a less high-energy toddler and chosen a less irritable husband. 

Hello, who are you?

Despite the nine months of pregnancy, Alice’s arrival still came as a bit of a shock. Up to her birth I was still thinking I'd make it to one of her hospital appointments, see an ultrasound, listen to her heartbeat, and get to feel the excitement of her impending arrival. Instead, the first time I went to hospital was for the birth. The doctors must have been wondering who I was and why I was following them into surgery. Fortunately, despite almost no involvement with Alice prepartum, aside from conceptually, as discussed above, as soon as she was placed in my arms, I felt that connection which I'd failed to build in the previous nine months.

Similarly, where we had spent weeks preparing Marty’s cot, car seat, and stroller in advance, for Alice these things were all done in a frantic rush of YouTube videos after she was born. Which also meant they were done by me while my wife was in hospital—not ideal even though she selected the YouTube videos for me to follow and issued very clear instructions. It was three weeks before we realized that I'd forgotten to attach part of the stroller, clearly not an important piece as I’ve repeatedly pointed out. After taking the car seat apart to clean it, and forgetting to follow the instructions to remember how I took it apart, I had to spend a late night repeatedly rewatching a video, in Russian, to discover how it went back together. Turns out there simply wasn’t the time to look after a toddler and prepare properly for the arrival of a new baby.

What do we do now?

Having already had a baby, we should surely know what we’re meant to do this time around—just do the same as we do with Marty, right? Well yes, except Marty is now three years old and seems like a giant compared to Alice. Plus, most of my time with Marty is spent throwing him onto the sofa or spinning him in circles, both things I’m almost certain you’re not meant to do with newborns. Although since I haven't re-read any of the baby books, I’m not totally sure. 

I’m again surprised at how small and fragile a new baby is, and very dubious that we’re adequately equipped to take care of her. I’d also forgotten, dare I say it, how easy looking after a baby is compared to looking after a toddler. Today I was in charge of Alice and I didn’t have to do any running; not once was I required to pretend to be a tickle monster; I wasn't bitten or trodden on. OK, so there was a lot of screaming and I was copiously pooped on once, but that is nothing to a seasoned parent. Furthermore, the screaming could be resolved with another milk bottle, a new nappy, or a cuddle, and I could do all this from the comfort of my living room while watching Netflix. Amazing. Obviously playing with Marty is great and I look forward to Alice growing up so I can chase the pair of them as a terrifying tickle monster, but it’s a lovely change of pace to parent while sitting down.

I want to hold the baby!

It’s amazing having my wife at home all day on maternity leave. It means that for six months there will be two of us to play with the children. For the past few months it’s been me and Marty together, and the first few days with a newborn are obviously mother and baby time. Now, however, Marty gets to play with his mommy again, and I get to stay with Alice while they go off on adventures. 

Of course this doesn't guarantee that I get to hold Alice as I first have to pry her out of her nanny's clasp. Not an easy matter, but with a little cunning subterfuge, such as pretending there's an important delivery or a strange cat that needs driving away, I can manage it. Then I just have to stay alert, since the slightest lapse in concentration will see Alice seized and me relegated to milk mixer and bottle carrier. However, once I’ve got Alice and locked Nanny out, we can relax in front of a movie and I can finally get to know and love my daughter.
 

Photos courtesy of the author.

About the Author

Joe and his wife Diane moved to Thailand in 2018. Since the arrival of their son Martin in 2021 and daughter Alice in 2024, Joe has been a stay-at-home father. The whole family enjoys BAMBI playgroups and Thai beach holidays.