Dear Baby Number 2,

‘What?!” say my readers, who three years ago read my blog about deciding to have one baby. Yup, that’s right, another is on it’s way.

How did this happen, you may ask? Well, let me start by saying this was well and truly planned. Well, as planned as ‘let’s not try, but let’s not NOT try’ goes.

It all started when, on a rare date night, hubby turned to me and said, ‘I think I want another baby’. This coincided with me undertaking a leadership course that has completely changed my life, and made me realise that maybe my desire to have just one child was underpinned by my own mother’s feeling of limitations, and not my own.

‘We could do that,’ I responded. And then we stared at each other in shock for a while. ‘But I don’t want to properly try,’ I said – the sentiment driven more by the desire to protect my crushing disappointment if we tried and failed than anything else.

We laughingly went back home and asked our babysitters – my sister and her boyfriend – what they think we should do. They gaped at us with shock. After all, our life was set at this point. Later my sister shared me her boyfriend’s comment, which was, ‘you’ll never regret doing it, but you may regret not doing it’. And so our path began to change.

Of course, there are other factors in there to consider. Travelling is currently off the table, which has always been a huge motivator for us. Plus, with so many lockdowns, we’ve started to really value the notion of family. So, that leads us to now.

I’ve actually known I was pregnant for a week now, but I haven’t been able to verbalise it (and of course, this won’t be published until we are well and truly beyond 12 weeks). So far, I’ve been feeling great. Although I have an insatiable appetite for meat, which is hilarious. And I cannot stop eating. Cheese and eggs are off the table, but I’m still needing my morning coffee (and struggling to cut down to just one cup of this glorious vice).

Today (so I’m just beyond five weeks now) the nausea has started creeping in, coinciding with the cravings sating. So I’m guessing it’s going to be another rocky road. Fortunately, I’m working from home, and I’m not full time, so I’m hoping that may make things slightly easier for me as I embark upon what I believe they refer to as a ‘geriatric pregnancy’.

Little bubs, when you are born dear old Mum will be 40, which feels so old to me to be giving birth. Twenty-one years older than my Mum was when she had me! But there are benefits to that. We don’t have the financial burdens my parents had, our careers are in a fairly solid state, our life feels relatively settled, and you’re going to have the most doting, helpful big sister in the world.

At this stage, this is all very new. Dadda and I spent last night listing all the things we can and can’t remember (your Dad more of the latter). And we occasionally look at each other and mutter a single world to remind each other what we’ve done. The other day, your Dad just groaned and said, ‘purees’.

Still, my first feeling when I found out was happiness. What a wonderful thing to happen to our beautiful family. For now, it’s just our little secret (well, aside from those people who immediately guess when I say ‘no’ to wine), but in six weeks we plan on your big sister being the first to know before she shares the news with the rest of the fam. In the meantime, little bubs, stay safe in my already-growing belly. x