The first pregnancy is especially exciting. First time ultrasound, first time CTG and of course first time giving birth. The second pregnancy is kind of racing by. Don't consciously feel inside yourself, just don't lift anything heavy, go to pregnancy yoga and lovingly keep a pregnancy diary. Because everything was there before? No Because you don't have time! Child number 1 wants mom. And how!
I worked full time during my first pregnancy. Go, no problem. In the evening I was of course tired and lay on the couch with chocolate and a DVD season of "The Wire". That was nice. In the last few weeks my husband and I watched all five seasons again. Ok and also cleaned away a bar of chocolate every evening. We already suspected that this would not work with a child and a new baby bump. But that the second pregnancy feels so different, that surprised us.
When my daughter was one year old, my husband got her used to daycare and I went back to work part-time. Oops, and pregnant again, 5th week. I quickly realized that this time it is really exhausting to be pregnant and to go to work. Although I only sat in the office part of the day and then happily went to my daughter's daycare center, I was just always tired. It was not uncommon for me to fall asleep reading aloud in the afternoon. Sometimes my daughter woke me up in disgust, sometimes she played quietly next to me, until I myself jumped up from the power nap, frightened.
And the bigger the baby bump got, the harder it got
Just sit down with the little one on the floor in the nursery and get some breath at the same time, difficult. So I always lay quickly on my side, like the ancient Romans. It was just always such a good sleeping pose …
If I wanted to get up in the middle of a sentence, I couldn't do it without a short pause. Groaning, I heaved myself up, if possible on a chair. It must have looked very awkward because at one point my daughter was hanging by my leg and clutching it to help me.
No sooner had I taken my place in front of the puzzle in the nursery than my cell phone was sure to ring. From the living room. Or my daughter asked for pieces of apple. Fruit is healthy, so up with me.
Since my daughter was so young, she needed help getting dressed. And to be honest, I needed them too. Putting on shoes with a baby bump between you and the child is no fun. I already had problems with my shoes and was happy when only winter boots to slip into were announced. I no longer saw shoelaces under the ball.
That also led to wild intimate hairstyles in the final phase, I'm afraid. Well, as I said, I didn't see any of that anymore.
My daughter was still sitting in the stroller on the way to daycare. When getting on and off the bus, it also happened to me regularly that my stomach hit the handle of the stroller. Sometimes that really hurt. I was annoyed because I didn't take care of my unborn baby enough and kept hiding the fact that I was pregnant in everyday life.
Not to mention my daughter's tantrums: “I'm alone.” Sure, always nice where she can do something alone, but not when crossing the street. So I ran after, kicking child trapped under the arm and strapped into the stroller. She thought she was really stupid, but there was no other way. (Needless to say, from the time baby number 2 was in the stroller, the little one ABSOLUTELY wanted to get back in the stroller.)
The afternoon on the playground was my workout: helping the little one on the swing, up the slide or comfortingly on the arm, all absolute strengths with a baby ball.
Even if baby number 2 was not yet born, it was already squeezing between us. We had to look for new positions for reading aloud before going to bed, because there was hardly any space for the little one on the lap with the ball. Lying in bed she could snuggle into my arms and I read aloud until I slept again myself.
And then the eternal guilty conscience that I am not concentrating enough on my second pregnancy and at the same time I am no longer available to my firstborn with all my strength – exhausting. This feeling catches up with you in the evening, when there is finally peace and quiet and you only have a few hours of "free" time. It's great to spend this time with a guilty conscience and new resolutions that you can't really keep for the next day.
Then it was always good when my husband waved to the next DVD series and we made ourselves comfortable on the sofa. However, the new series shouldn't be too intense. Because with children, horror and everything that has to do with tormenting children are a no go. Exactly, the second one is better at howling.
And of course children feel that something is changing. I discussed with my daughter that she would soon have a sibling. We read the classic sibling books, stroked the stomach and tried to prepare them for it. Everything fine so far, but the closer the deadline came, the more affectionate my big one became.
That didn't make my birth planning any easier. Once again, my thoughts were absent from myself. Instead of worrying about how and where I would like to give birth, everything focused on the question, where is my daughter in the meantime? Our parents live too far away to be harnessed. And then this planning must include roughly every day of the week and every time. My husband wanted to be there for the second birth too, which I thought was great. But if it had come to the crunch, it would have been more important to me, he's with our daughter than with me. Fortunately, our closest friends then stepped in.
Everything went well. It started on a Sunday morning, so the hustle and bustle of everyday life stayed outside. In the afternoon our older one was able to visit her little brother in the hospital. I still remember how tenderly and carefully she touched and kissed him. I will probably never forget that. Not like my daughter cried when the elevator door in the hospital closed because I stayed with the little one and she went home with Dad. That was hard.
At that time I couldn't foresee how much would be different with the second child, but I probably had a little premonition. Because I decided to stay in the hospital for three days to take it easy and get to know my little son in peace. Before the lively family life would start with four.
This article originally appeared on Eltern.de.