I am Facebook friends with a woman about to give birth and I almost envy her her naiveté. She’ll lose that soon enough. Today she posted the most beautiful picture of herself in full belly bloom standing in the forest, gazing upward toward a hazy, half-obscured sun. Absolutely gorgeous. Oh honey, enjoy it now because hell awaits you.
I’ve been reading on various mommy websites about second children and how very different the experience is while watching my husband’s cousin half-way through her second pregnancy. Things I’ve noticed/read: No one gives a shit about your second pregnancy like they did your first. Life is much less magical and full of hope and possibility. Homegirl does not have the energy for photo shoots and has zero interest in being beautifully pregnant and glowing (not that she glowed the first time either. Or ever. She’s not exactly the model of positive pregnancy here, just the only woman I currently know on her way to kid #2).
So when I think, “Yeah, it might be nice to have another,” I also remind myself that this isn’t a do-over of the first. This isn’t me taking naps and being waited on by my husband and registering for all the things and cooing over every little tiny sock. Well, wait… no, I might still coo. Those things are adorable. I just think it’s really important to remember that I have a Tasmanian Devil of a toddler and as magical as my first pregnancy may have felt, a second one might be more of a pain in the ass.
Those tiny socks, though!