He wanted my cake, I said no.
So, I have come to that point in my pregnancy where I can no longer see what lies beneath my belly. This realization came to me in the shower this weekend. I was lathering up, preparing to take my son on a play date and boom – I looked down and all I saw was stomach. I was overwhelmed by a mixture of fear, excitement and panic. Then it hit me. I am pregnant again.
Nature has a way of making us forget. It has to, right? Let’s be honest - being pregnant is not all sunshine and light. In fact, it is mostly cloudy with a chance of rain. I remember after months of Braxton-Hicks contractions, a completely unrecognizable belly, 27 hours of labor, an emergency c-section, four hours of not being able to feel my own legs and those first few days of learning how to nurse, I looked down at my beautiful boy and thought,
While you are totally worth it, I am NEVER doing that again. This sentiment remained with me for months. I would shoot my killer stank eye at anyone that would dare suggest that my infant needed a sibling. It had to be pitch black and my spouse had to be “well armored” to come within ten feet of me and I would practically break down in hysterics every time I saw my post-baby stomach.
Then it happened.
Slowly, at first. Right around the time, Isaiah turned one. I started to remember him in his little onsies sleeping peacefully in his co-sleeper beside our bed. I would see infants and want to hold them. I would see pregnant women and dole out unsolicited advice and chat them up about how excited they must be to welcome the new life into the world. I even began to miss nursing. And then – on a chilly fall day in September my husband said to me, “I think we should stop trying not to have another baby.” I guess men get it too. So, I smiled and said, “Me too.” Two months later, I was knocked up. Surely duped by some higher power. That proverbial maternal instinct. Like I said, nature has a way of making us forget.
While I am excited about this new little person, the sight of my expanded belly has me starting to obsess over how exactly we will make this work. I am over the superficial concerns… sort of. The stretch marks aren’t going anywhere and while I am no Heidi Klum, I know I can lose the weight eventually. I am also aware that that glorious hyperpigmentation, reserved for us darker skinned ladies, will eventually fade. I am just starting to really realize that a new little person is entering the equation. We just got a handle on the first little person. Isaiah will be three in August and we are just finding success in potty-training. We are just starting to get a goodnight sleep - most nights. We are just trying to reclaim some of the identity we misplaced in parenting. Now, I find myself waking up at night wondering how people with two children grocery shop. How people with two young children find someone to babysit… How people with two young children sleep… How people with two young children go out to dinner… How people with two young children go on vacation… How people with two young children work… How people with two young children find time to do anything but stay inside and raise two young children…
I suppose like anything – there is no How-to guide. It’s just trial and error. So far so good with this one. Surely, if we can make it work with one peanut, we will find our way with a second.
