The duration of my first pregnancy was 37 weeks and 5 days.
He was healthy and ready to go at early term, catching us pleasantly off-guard. The bags were packed on the day with me calling directions to my patient husband between contractions. The car seat was installed and the pool booked all while I labored. We had to stop for petrol on the way. It was an adventure – the final adventure we travelled together before we became a family of three – reaching a climax at the arrival of a little son, so keen to enter the world that he arrived the day before the baby shower.
Fast forward two and a half years and baby number two is incubating away, hidden in that secret place.
Next year our three becomes four. We are elated… and a tad terrified. During my first pregnancy I remember reading and researching, pondering the changes in my body and the growth of the baby inside, leisurely perusing the literature and rubbing my belly. This time around has already been a very different experience. I’d love to share with you five ways my second pregnancy is different from my first.
**Trigger Warning: This post contains content on miscarriage and infant loss, which some readers may find distressing. Please be aware of your triggers and don’t read on if you don’t feel comfortable doing so.**
“You must be sooo over it by now!”
My protruding belly is the subject of all mindless supermarket and bump-into chit-chats.
“Oh you know, this is the easiest part!” Truly. It is. If you’re a mom, you get my drift.
Right now baby does not need to be changed, carried, fed, changed, dressed, undressed, changed, bathed, changed, rocked to sleep while I lose my mind.
I don’t have to figure out why she is crying, wear dodgy nursing bras or wake up for feeds and function on half a brain the rest of the day.
This post originally appeared on Her Happy Heart.
I read Post Secret every week. I have since I was in my early 20s. Back then, I was dealing with a few things and I found I related to a lot of the secrets, so reading them gave me a connection to the people who sent them in. These days I don’t relate to a lot of them, but I still read, intrigued by the idea that the people we know actually carry more secrets than we can ever possibly know.