Second Pregnancy Blues

5 years ago

I'm a bit of a sporadic Blogher poster. Between working part-time, chasing after my 17 month old, attempting to be Martha Stewart and focusing on the full-time job of my personal blog and photography, I just don't have any spare time to devote to it. Tonight is an exception, however. Tonight, I feel the huge weight of something on my heart and I can't blog about it on my personal page. Too many family members and friends read it and I don't want to hurt or offend anyone. But I have to get it off my chest....

I am 32 weeks pregnant with my second little boy. As we approach the end, I feel simultaneously giddy and nervous. This pregnancy has been different in so many ways from the first time around and it's not just the degrees and strengths of the morning sickness, the energy levels or the kicks from within. 

It's about the sparkle of it all. When I was pregnant with my first, my husband doted on me regularly. He bought me tiny gifts for each week that I made it through. It was an unexpected gesture and I could've cared less about receiving gifts all the time, but it meant so much to me. It showed me that he was just as excited as I was, that he was rooting for me and for the continual progress of our child. At work, my co-workers would make me take it easy. They would offer to lift heavy items for me and give me the "comfy" chair and their concern for the baby's well-being was touching. My friends gushed over my ever-swelling belly, completely amazed and delighted by every little symptom or moment that I shared with them. They also threw me a shower and all of my family from out of state sent in gifts and attended the shower virtually, eveyone providing well wishes for my son. Again, I never imagined or expected that everyone would fall so completely in love with the pregnancy, just as I had. My son hadn't even made his debut into the world and already people were lining up to celebrate his life. It was an indescribably beautiful feeling. 

January of this year, I found out that I was pregnant again. We had planned it just as we had the first time around, so it wasn't necessarily a surprise. The first few months however, my husband and I both felt that it was all a bit surreal. The positive results were in, the morning sickness had begun and yet, it was difficult to fathom another tiny person being added to our family. 

Eventually, the surrealism of it all began to wear off. The 10 week ultrasound provided the visual that we needed and the excitement finally kicked in.

The weeks began to race forward and I waited. What I was waiting for, I'm not sure. Possibly for my husband to reassume his cheerleading role (sans gifts, because truly, I don't need them). Maybe for my new co-workers, my friends and my family to want to revel in these moments with me. 

And yet, no one did. And nothing really changed. Except for me, that is.

I'm incredibly heartbroken for my second born. I understand that firsts are huge, life-changing moments that bring your personal community together. But what of the subsequent moments? Like a second pregnancy. To me, this is another huge, life-changing moment and it is in no way different from how I felt about my first born. This tiny life will be different, will be important and special and shake my world to the core all over again. I will be changed, my entire current family dynamic will be altered and affected because of this baby. Tears well in my eyes as I think of how quiet his journey has been so far and how he will not be celebrated when he enters this world the way that he deserves to be. The way that all lives deserve to be, whether it's your first or your tenth.

I will celebrate him. I will give him all of the love and joy that I gave to my first. And I pray more than anything that he never feels as if he's living in the shadow of his older brother simply because he didn't make his appearance sooner.

What are your thoughts?  


Jen B.

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