When I was pregnant with my second child, I was terrified. Even though I obviously had experience in the mommy department, in some ways, it made things even more scary because I knew was I was in for—the sleepless nights, the sentence to a life of performing tasks one-handed, the mad dash through the grocery store before the baby woke up.
I knew what was coming.
And I was afraid of it. How on earth would I manage to do all of that all over again, this time with a toddler in tow? (My daughters are two years and two days apart.) Did I really have to give birth again? What was I thinking?
On top of my simple fear of being able to do it all physically, I had a lot of misgivings about bringing a second child into the world. I mourned the loss of my daughter and I’s alone time—with a husband who was student-teaching, taking classes, and coaching football, it had been just me and my daughter for a long time. We had a special bond that I worried about losing when the second baby came along. I worried about the dynamics of our family shifting and dividing my time and my older daughter feeling cheated.
Read more at EverydayFamily.com