Parenthood reshapes their days, and they wouldn’t have it any other way

THE PARENTS: Erin Smith, 35, and Matt Smith, 35, of West Chester

THE KIDS: Carson David, 2; Madelyn Brooke, born Aug. 3, 2022

THEIR NAMES: Carson derives from Carl, Erin’s father’s name; the baby shares a middle name with his paternal grandfather. Madelyn surfaced in their hunt for a classic name loosely linked with Matthew; they liked the one-syllable rhythm of Brooke to follow it.

The cherry blossoms erupted early this year. Which meant they made the perfect backdrop for a photo of Murphy, the family’s goldendoodle, announcing what the 20-week ultrasound had shown. “It’s a girl!” read the caption.

They’d done the same thing for Carson — it was blue hydrangeas that time — along with a low-key gender reveal, just Erin’s immediate family at the Shore with a platter of cupcakes, one of them with a dollop of cerulean icing in the center.

For this pair, children were always a when, not an if. They knew each other tangentially as teenagers — different high schools, overlapping friend-groups — then reconnected as seniors at Penn State, when both were studying business.

On their first date — seeing The Dark Knight after dinner at an Italian restaurant on College Avenue — Matt was so nervous that he tucked Erin’s chair too close to the table. They quickly found common ground: Both hailed from Philly, felt close to their families, and avidly cheered their hometown teams.

Over winter break, Matt invited Erin to watch an Eagles game. “I said I always watch it with my dad, and you’re welcome to come over and watch it with us. That’s when I knew he was serious. He became part of our family very quickly.”

The relationship felt familiar and easy. “The advice I’ve given people is that you know it’s the right one when it’s a relationship that doesn’t require a lot of work,” Matt says.

After graduation, in the midst of the 2009 recession, both returned to the Philly area to be near their families. Matt proposed on a Monday morning — offseason in Cape May, with a nearly empty beach and a ring in hand.

They married a year later, October 2012. Matt recalls the moment at Westminster Presbyterian Church when the doors swung open. “I’m standing at the altar, music’s playing, and I see her in her dress for the first time. That first second.”

For seven years, their answer to the kid-question was, “Not yet.” They were both getting MBAs, building careers in finance, buying a house. But Erin had clear calculations: She wanted two children by the age of 35.

“I’ve always known that I wanted to be a dad,” Matt says. “I wanted to be more ready than reactive.”

It was the morning after her birthday, and Erin knew she was pregnant even before taking the test. They waited until the second trimester before sharing the news, slipping ultrasound photos into Mother’s Day cards for both their moms.

“I remember when my bump came; wearing actual maternity clothes was a big milestone,” Erin says. She continued barre workouts throughout her pregnancy; she craved plain salads or pizza. They transformed an office into a nursery with images of baby safari animals: giraffes, koalas, pandas, and elephants.

Her water broke nine days early; labor at Paoli Hospital lasted all day until Carson emerged at 9:06 p.m. “There’s so much focus on getting through the labor, but then there’s a baby at the end,” Erin says. “I remember sitting in the rocking chair in the nursery a couple days after he was born and thinking: Wow. He’s really here.”

They wanted a second, but the pandemic, which began when Carson was 4 months old, gave them a moment’s pause. Would pregnancy be dangerous in a time of COVID-19? Would child care be available? What if Carson, or one of them, got sick?

“We ultimately decided we did want two, once we got vaccinated and things became a little bit more normal,” Erin says.

This time, it was a few hours after Thanksgiving dinner when Erin woke up and thought, “I’m pregnant.” A test confirmed her hunch; she slipped back to bed and told Matt in the morning.

“It was different in that, this time, I was also chasing a 2-year-old in addition to having a full-time job. There wasn’t a whole lot of time to dwell on the pregnancy,” Erin says. When they first told Carson, he called his in-utero sibling “Baby Tummy.” Later, the moniker became “Baby Sister.” Toward the end, he would pat Erin’s belly and ask, “She’s still in there?”

The answer was, “Yup. Still in there,” through the blistering heat of July, until contractions began in the early hours of Aug. 3. By dawn, they headed to Paoli Hospital: same doula, a quicker labor this time.

When Madelyn emerged, she was nearly a clone of her brother: same blond hair, same nose and mouth. “She reminded me of things I had forgotten, like that look on their faces after they’re finished eating and how they arch and stretch their backs,” Erin says.

Parenthood has reshaped their days: No more daily barre classes; no more barhopping with friends. Instead, there are zoo playdates and mornings of sunscreen-slathering, diaper-changing, dog-walking before anyone else wakes up.

“I feel older,” Matt says. “[Parenthood] solidifies where you are in your phase of life.”

Erin is determined to give their children equal time and focus; that’s why she keeps a memory book for each — Carson’s is gray, Madelyn’s is pink — with photographs, shower invitations, birth announcements, and places to note each milestone: weight gain, first smile, first solid food, first time sitting up unaided.

It’s been an added challenge to protect a newborn from illness during a pandemic, Erin says; that’s why they’ve taught Carson to kiss his sister’s toes instead of her face. But glimpses of the siblings together are some of Erin’s sweetest moments.

“Carson’s a really sweet big brother. He’ll pull out her baby tub, pick out a bow for her hair, make sure she has a book and a toy. He thinks of her with everything we do. If she’s crying, he’ll say, ‘It’s OK, Baby Sister. Are you hungry?’ I can’t wait to see them interact when she’s older.”