Pregnancy the second time around, at least so far, could not be more different than the first time. I mean, physically, it's about the same. I have never been afflicted with morning sickness, but the usual fatigue and aches and pains have plagued the last 9-odd weeks of my life. But that's not what I'm talking about. All of that is precisely like my pregnancy with Johnny. Other than that, the two experiences could not be more different.
In my first pregnancy, I waited with bated breath for my weekly babycenter.com updates. "What kind of fruit does the baby resemble this week? A kumquat!? A KUMQUAT! DID YOU HEAR THAT WORLD? THE BABY IS THE SIZE OF A KUMQUAT!" I devoured websites and a couple of books on pregnancy in the first couple of weeks, and I journaled my every thought, feeling, and idea. I had childcare and names picked out in the first month, and signed up for every elective prenatal test ever conceived of by modern medicine. I lived for every doctor visit and counted the minutes until I could find out the sex of the baby. In a word, I was obsessed.
This time, I sometimes forget for minutes on end that I'm pregnant. My pregnancy does not occupy my every thought. In fact, I have lots and lots of thoughts that have nothing to do with pregnancy whatsoever. I have signed up for Babycenter updates, but sometimes it is days before I get around to checking them. I haven't secured childcare, have rejected the idea of most of the prenatal testing, and can't remember off the top of my head when my next doctor visit is.
Maybe this is a symptom of the other things going on in my life. I accepted a new job close to the time I found out I was pregnant, and shortly thereafter made the job shift. Also, this time, I'm chasing a toddler around, and my husband is in town instead of on the road like he was for the majority of my last pregnancy. So, yes, things are different in my situation. Last time I was pregnant I had time to be obsessed with it. I was mostly alone in my house, sitting around, staring at my growing belly. This time, I have a few other things I have to handle.
But I'm not sure that's completely it. It's not that I don't care about my pregnancy or this baby or the exciting changes in store for our little family. I just have a feeling of well-being this time. Kind of an "No worries, I got this," kind of attitude. I have been there, done that, and I am pretty sure I know how to grow a baby now, no instructions required. It's nice, actually. It just feels like part of my life, instead of my whole life this time around. It's a natural progression of things, like "Well, of course there is a human growing inside me. Why wouldn't there be?"
Is this typical? Tell me, ladies. Did your second and/or subsequent pregnancies lack the same urgency and obsessive qualities your first one had? Or am I just playing like the proverbial ostrich, with head firmly planted in the sand regarding what- namely, the total dissolution of everything that I know to be normal - is going to happen in the coming months?