‘How It Really Feels When You Have Two Babies Close Together’

Lauren Goodger announced this week that she’s pregnant with her second child, the big surprise being she became pregnant when her daughter Larose, who was born in July 2021, was only eight weeks old. I’m not a reality star and I may not have had the same relationship dramas as Lauren (she broke up with Larose’s father, Charles Dury, just before announcing her second pregnancy), but her story is very familiar to me because the age gap between my own children is 13 months.

I can remember the feeling of utter shock and panic when I became pregnant again before my baby was even six-months-old. And I can remember the tears too, there were a lot of tears. However, seven years on, I wouldn’t change things for the world. But that doesn’t mean it’s been easy.

I had a traumatic birth with my first son James, which left me with ongoing pelvic floor issues and I spent the first few months of motherhood in a fluctuating mix of joy and pain. I swore to my husband that I could never go through birth again.

So, imagine the irony when the familiar signs of pregnancy once again filled my body when James was barely five months old. I knew deep down that I was pregnant, but I ignored it for a week because I needed the space to cope with the shock. To be purposely vague, sex wasn’t really on the agenda with a young baby and my ongoing health issues. And we’d struggled to conceive with James, so we didn’t expect a one-off fumble to result in another pregnancy. But it did.

My husband was delighted. I was petrified. The sheer panic at that time was that pregnancy meant birth, which equated to fear. And I already had a baby, so how could I even contemplate having another one so soon?

Lauren Goodger has said she’s worried about having children so close together because she’ll be going back to ‘square one’. I felt the same. There was a feeling of selfishness that I had my life back, albeit a little bit. I had begun to exercise again, gradually. My son was almost on solids. Although sleep was still hit and miss, it was significantly better than those early weeks where an hour of two of sleep is like a precious commodity for which you would pay over the odds. I questioned whether I could cope physically and mentally, but ultimately I knew deep down that I wanted this baby.

Other people’s reactions were interesting to say the least when they found out about my pregnancy. There were a lot of blank faces, even more raised eyebrows and wide eyes. In the early days before people knew, I was sat chatting with two friends, and one joked about how funny it would be if I were pregnant again. I burst into tears. I will never forget her nervous laugh when I told her that I was, and she still refers to me as the friend who had two under thirteen months.

After fighting hard for a planned C-sectionbecause I was so fearful of another natural birth, I gave birth to my second son, Oliver, when his big brother was still in nappies. James was too young to understand why I had disappeared for three days only to return with a new contender for my attention. He had no idea who this new intruder was and he was too little for us to explain, or to try and make his brother exciting.

After my husband’s paternity leave ended, he went on a work trip for almost two weeks. He couldn’t get out of it, and even though my life was turned on its head, life and his work had to go on. It was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. Even after his trip, he was out the house from 7am to at least 7pm.

Doing bath time on my own was generally a screaming mess; naptimes were impossible to sync (if it ever happened, I would silently ninja skip down the stairs avoiding all squeaky floorboards, desperate for a potential whole hour of me-time). Add to that a conveyer belt of near constant nappy changes, a 13-month-old who was attempting to walk while I was trying to recover from a c-section and a newborn with silent reflux without medication. And don’t even get me started on the mission to get two of them out of the house.

However, I didn’t know any different. Some said it was probably similar to having twins. All I know is that two under two hit me like a brick, but it was worth it.

My boys are now seven and eight, and they adore each other. Best friends, partners in crime and football buddies. They play the same games, entertain each other, and I hope they will always be there for each other, whether the bond remains as tight or not.

Perhaps in the long run a small age gap is easier than a bigger one in some ways. We didn’t forget anything because we started over with the next one as soon as we had weaned or nappy trained the first. We pretty much gave up sleep and doing anything for ourselves for a while, and now slithers of freedom are making a gradual return. I can’t imagine having an older child progressively becoming more independence and then chucking a baby in the mix.

The experience of having two babies so close together has been unforgettable. Those early years were daunting, and often I feared I would never have any free time again, yet it was about survival. It was our choice to have two children so close together, so we had to get on and parent the best we could. There’s been tears (mainly mine), laughter and I have never felt more tired in my life, but I am hugely grateful for what we have regardless of the tough times. I wouldn’t change a thing.