1 Mother 2 Another

(Note: I'm actually three months pregnant
right now. The following entry was originally written a couple
months ago, and I'm catching you up!)


So I’m pregnant again. Almost five weeks. I’ve
officially known for one day now, but I’ve suspected since
the very beginning, and known for sure since I went shopping two
days ago. You know how you can tell when you’re gaining
weight? And you see it start to appear in all the usual places?
Well pregnancy weight is a bit different. I mean, I’m on
vacation, so I’ve been sampling the local desserts somewhat
regularly, but that only accounts for a pound or two of
bikini-stretching. As I tried on clothing at the outlet mall the
other day, I realized I felt much heavier, much faster, than
chocolate explained. I pulled on a pair of pants in my usual size.
No go – in fact, laughably off base. I’d expected a bit
tight, but this . . . we’re talking barely pulling over the
hips. Then my eyes journeyed down from my waist and I saw-


Those thighs! I recognize those thighs! I haven’t seen those
thighs for over a year!

And it all fell into place. Sounds vain or
ridiculous, but my thighs puff immediately, and in a very
distinctive way (see href="http://www.1mother2another.com/index.php?option=com_content&task=view&id=165&Itemid=46">
earlier blog for my thigh lament last time around!) And
then I noticed the other curse –


Back fat.


Suddenly I had rolls around a bra that had fit just two weeks ago.
Yep, definitely pregnant.


On a body image note, that realization was infinitely freeing. I
wasn’t losing my mind or all my control – my body was
taking on a mind of its own! I wasn’t crazy, or completely
lacking in self-control, or whatever. I was pregnant.


So we’ve confirmed it in these last days of our first
vacation in three years – and probably our last vacation for
another two years with this news. How do I feel? Not sure where to
start.


Excited, definitely. We wanted another child and were hoping for a
two-year spacing, so we are happy it’s worked out. I spent a
bit of time agonizing about the whole “one child to two
kids” thing as we discussed trying again, but I didn’t
really allow myself to dwell on it; I was afraid if I did I’d
talk myself out of the whole thing and know that I do want more
than one child.


But now that the pregnancy (and accompanying hormones) are here, I
know I’m going to have to go through a sort of presumptive
grieving process. Knowing our family’s going to change in a
profound and irreversible way has made these last few vacation days
with my daughter much more precious. Our cuddles feel numbered; our
quiet time together seems doomed; our unique bond feels a bit
threatened.


For how can I shower as much love on my daughter as I do now, when
there’s a whole additional person in the future? The thought
of hurting her by adding to our family almost kills me –
it’s a physical ache in my gut. I know there will be time
– a lot of it in the early days – when she feels
abandoned, less loved, less important. How can I knowingly enter
into that situation?


And as for me, I’m having such a great time with her –
why would I want to diminish that? Why in the world would I want to
create a situation where I get to spend less time with her?


And let’s be brutally honest. How can I possibly love another
child as much as I love her?


Finally, there’s the purely selfish desire to not have to go
back to those early months. Maddie’s nearly weaned,
she’s able to entertain herself while I cook or keep house,
she walks everywhere, communicates well, and oh yeah, sleeps
through the night.


What exactly have I just agreed to????


Don’t get me wrong – I want this baby. But I remember
going through a similar process with my first pregnancy: a grieving
for the way of life (self-absorbed and remarkably
responsibility-free) and a worry of what this new dynamic would do
to my relationship with my husband. Obviously I weathered it and
now can’t honestly remember what I did with all my free time.


As for my marriage, I worry about what this will do as well. Our
first few months were incredibly hard on our relationship, and
we’ve come out of it stronger and more in love than before,
but it was rough. I’ve come to love the triangle our family
is, and how we can all cuddle together and be close. I’ve
seen friends with two kids in action; the parents are rarely in
physical contact, as each person is corralling a different child.
Two kids really do change the marriage dynamic, if only because
there’s now truly no time for the spouses. With Madeleine,
Brian would rub my feet while I nursed; now he’ll be busy
taking care of baby girl while I attend to the peanut. We’ll
be lucky to be in the same room together, much less the same
conversation.


All these griefs and little deaths aside, I’m truly looking
forward to peanut’s arrival. I can’t wait to meet the
child God’s entrusting to us, and see how he/she enriches our
life in ways I can’t even begin to guess at. I’m just
wistful about what I’ll be losing, and know I’ll never
get it back.


So here’s to the next adventure – and these last months
of sweetness.