I don’t think there’s anyone who reads this here blog who does not ALSO follow along on either Facebook, Twitter, or Instagram, but JUST IN CASE, I am currently pregnant for a second time, clocking in at 27.5 weeks today.  I look… more or less the same as usual, but with a basketball tucked up under my shirt. I feel like I am significantly bigger at this number of weeks this time than I was the last time, but I am too lazy to go and take a look at pictures from the last time, MY GOD those are on a whole ‘nother drive and from THREE years ago what sort of technological wizard do you take me for? Just trust.

The decision to actually have a second child was SO SO much harder than I thought it would be- a little knowledge is a terrible thing, eh?  When we got pregnant the first time, we didn’t know SHIT about what was coming, and now that we do…. well.  All of a sudden that “of course we want two children, life with siblings is wonderful” stuff started to sound BATSHIT INSANE what do you mean we JUST started sleeping through the night, all of us, reliably, like LAST WEEK.  Over and over J and I would have the same conversation: Should we?  Well, what if we didn’t?  But should we?  What happens if we do?  And we’d always just end the conversation with “… but siblings.”

LOOK, I KNOW.  Plenty of only children are perfect and wonderful and I am being 100% honest that we could have lived with an only child quite happily forever and ever.  But both J and I have a sibling, and while perhaps we did not always get along with them as children, they are NOW a big part of our lives and given that we are lucky enough to be able to offer the same to our daughter, we therefore decided to have another child.  If you’re interested in the HOW of lesbian child-obtaining, you may read the archives, starting in September of 2010. The process the second time around was more or less the same.

I am due in mid-June, and thus far I would categorize this pregnancy as WAY FUCKING HARDER than the first one.  I mean, let’s be real. Last time I was unemployed, living in Southern California, and doing yoga every day.  This time I am in Georgia (the weather SIMPLY DOES NOT COMPARE)  and I have a 2.5 year old who wants things, and I am three years older.  My hat is off to those of you with more children than two, because at this point I cannot FATHOM ever wanting to do this again, not even for a guaranteed baby that slept through the night at 6 weeks.

But this pregnancy is also… quieter.  I am not worried about the safety of my fetus as much as I was the first time.  I still drink coffee, and eat sushi, and take pharmaceuticals to ease pain and heartburn and whatever the fuck is happening in my sinuses.  I have no birth plan, other than attempting a VBAC, because I’ve now lived the “worst case scenario” birth I envisioned last time, and we are all still here, happy, healthy, and thriving (and please.  I know my “worst case scenario” birth is not even close to what an actual worst case scenario might be.  I am… moderately self-aware).  I am less concerned about breast-feeding and how it might go down this time than I was last time, and I am infinitely more concerned with how it’s all going to go down for OLIVIA than how it’s going to go for me.

I just keep telling myself that millions upon millions of people have done just what I’m about to do, and therefore it can’t possibly be beyond my abilities.  And if it is… well.  That’s what texting your friends at 3am is for.