Unglamorous

I'm quickly realizing the second pregnancy is far less glamorous than the first.  I can remember the day I found out I was pregnant with Chloe.  My mind went straight from a vision of me with a round belly, skinny legs (even though I didn't have them to start with - it was my vision - give me a break), and a healthy glow, straight to a vision of me quietly rocking my peaceful baby in my meticulously maintained nursery. 

There was nothing about the crazy, hormonal mood swings that follow closely behind the birth. Nothing about feeling sad that I could no longer feel the baby kicking my insides. Nothing about crying in the shower for a half hour just to cry. Nothing about berating my sweet husband for the most minuscule things.

In my vision there was nothing about spraying water from a squirt bottle on my girl parts while trying to pee.  There was nothing about the sheer panic associated with "the first poop."  There was nothing about suffering through weeks of maxi pads and ice packs.  Nothing about stitches tearing and limping up the stairs. 

There was nothing about hovering over the baby's crib, heart stopped, waiting for signs that she is still breathing.  Nothing about watching her scream as she gets her first vaccinations.  Nothing about being so tired and defeated that I have not the energy to shave my legs.

There is no other way to describe the second pregnancy other than being simply unglamorous.  With these harsh realities so vivid in my mind, there is no way to find the bliss that I once had when I was pregnant with Chloe.  The first pregnancy was such a dream.  I took two or three hour naps whenever I wanted.  I got pedicures to rest my tired feet.  I had the time to read every book ever written on pregnancy.  I was so happy.  So full of love.  So clueless. 

Don't get me wrong, I feel so blessed that God has trusted me to be the Mama of another precious baby.  I just wish that I had the time or energy to even think of this baby.  I'm so busy working and cleaning and parenting and running around that I forget I'm even pregnant 95% of the time.  I realize now that the first pregnancy is such an amazing time in one's life.  There is really nothing quite like it.

This pregnancy does have certain benefits, though.  Like, I have had less than an hour of my spare time to worry about deformities, rare diseases, miscarriage, etc. compared to the freaky nightly worry spiral I had with Chloe.  I'm not worried about the actual birth and "if I can do it," because I know I can, and I'm psyched to do it again.  I have a whole closet full of maternity clothes from my first pregnancy and from sweet friends who have given me their hand-me-downs.

I guess, in a sense, the second pregnancy is just as refreshing as it is unglamorous.  Knowing what to expect this time gives me a new sense of preparedness.  This time I know that I will need help wherever I can get it whether it be meals, babysitters, or a cleaning service.  I can't do it all and that is okay.  No one expects me to.  The only person who expected me to do it all the first time was me.  This time I won't be shocked to smell of sour milk more often than not.  I will know that breastfeeding will be great once we get through those dark days.  I will know that my baby growing up is not quite as devastating as it seems.  And I will know that there will be a day when our family will all sleep again.

Paul warned me that I shouldn't write about this, because it might ruin things for my friends who are pregnant for the first time, but I happen to know that it doesn't matter.  People can warn you about how hard it is going to be every day that you are pregnant and it won't matter.  It is just like "enjoy it now, they grow up so fast."  You never really know, or even believe it, until you experience it yourself.