expecting my second.


Lately I have noticed myself feeling a little defensive when I am given unsolicited and not-asked-for advice on being pregnant or giving birth. I blame the pregnancy hormones, or maybe the waves of emotion that go along with grief, but I want to scream, "This is not my first! I've done this before! I don't need your opinions!" But many people don't know that. And at first glance, how would they know: I don't have a toddler clinging to my hip, or cheerios stuck to my butt (the universal signs of motherhood, right?)  Even if people know about Baby David, I truly believe it just makes some people uncomfortable to acknowledge it, so they don't, and treat this as my first. (ps. even if a woman doesn't have this to deal with, a lot of time pregnancy advice isn't needed or wanted, unless the woman asks)

This pregnancy is different. They all are. But in my case, I look back on carrying David, and I can't really put my finger on it, but it was different. We lost David at 27 weeks, in reality, he likely passed away several weeks before that. We hadn't prepared anything for bringing home a baby, no crib, no little baby clothes were bought. It's almost like we subconsciously knew he would never be coming home with us. Of course, we didn't know, but I can't help but wonder why we weren't preparing.

With this baby, despite the fear and anxiety, we have done a bit more preparing. We have a crib. I've bought a few things for the nursery to decorate the walls. I've started emptying out my sister's basement and collecting a basinet, nursing tanks, a breast pump. 

I can't explain it, but it's different. I'm excited, yet scared. With anything in life there are lots of unknowns. Each pregnancy, birth, and child are different, and this second child of mine deserves all the excitement, happiness, and joy that goes along with expecting a baby. So I intend to give it that, all while remembering his (or her!) sweet Big Brother David.