I've been thinking a lot lately about the difference between being pregnant the first time, and being pregnant the second (and possibly subsequent) time(s). The second go-round is certainly different - not necessarily in good ways or bad ways...just different ways.
This time? I am over halfway done baking this baby and it has only just occured to us that he or she will, in fact, need a name. I can't remember the last time I cracked open "What to Expect" - mostly because I kinda know what to expect. I didn't even remember that it was time to schedule our anatomy scan until my midwife issued a gentle reminder at my last appointment. I have a paint color in mind for the nursery, but very little else. Ohandalso? Creating the nursery will require massive home reorganization. At this point we have tackled about 1% percent of that little project. But hey, babies sleep in your room for a good three months anyway, right?
That's not to say I'm not enjoying Round Two. I have been so fortunate to have had a pleasant, uneventful (knock on wood) pregnancy, especially since I'm trying to keep up with a preschooler this time. Just because I have less time to think about this baby and plan for his or her arrival definitely does not mean I find the experience of growing him or her any less magical. Because seriously - pregnancy is magical and miraculous and life-changing. I feel blessed beyond belief that I've been able to experience it twice. When I look at my son, I can't believe he started out as two tiny cells, and that he grew in my belly and I pushed him out, all healthy and gorgeous. I love being pregnant, and I won't let myself consider the fact that if this baby is a girl, this could very well be my last time feeling those kicks and jabs and getting all round and losing sight of my feet, and anticipating the arrival of a brand new person...there is nothing like it on earth.