Actual Worries About Baby Number Two

When you tell people you’re onto the second kid, common responses seem to linger around money, sleep and gender. While those are real considerations, they’re actually the least of my concerns.

We’ll have to pay for more daycare, yes, but our finances are aligned enough and we’ll probably go out and travel less, so we’ll be fine. Of course we’ll lose sleep. I may still have a bit of amnesia of how hard 1.5 hour increments of sleep are, but I also know that’s fleeting. A couple of months of truly disrupted sleep don’t seem that long in the grand scheme of things. And gender, no, I really don’t care. It’s a boy, so I get to rinse and repeat. Great!

You know what I actually worry about?

I worry that my son is going to struggle with having to share his people. He already gets jealous when I hold other babies, and honestly I’m a little bit sad for him. Imagine having parents and grandparents all to yourself, and then one day you’re not number one anymore.

I worry that I’m ready to take on this multiple kid challenge, no matter the actual challenge, and that my husband isn’t quite as mentally prepared. I have the tendency to manage stress head-on, but what if it takes a toll on my husband in a completely different way? I then worry I will voluntarily bear too heavy of a load just to prove everything is ok.

I worry that I’ve adapted so well to one kid that it actually may be a reality check and loss of independence when I have two. It’s not going to be so easy to tote two beings around or ask the grandparents or friends for a last minute watch. I have this parenting thing all figured out, and re-adjustment could throw me totally off my game.

I worry I’m not actually ready to sacrifice myself for another year. My body, my boobs, my sleep. I remember what it was like when I chose to exclusively pump for nine months. I remember how hard it was to feel comfortable in my own skin. I remember the social sacrifices that came with caring for a newborn.

I worry about going back to work… again. The transition last time was not just hard but painful, and I fear it’s going to be just as hard this time. I don’t want to be content in any aspect of my life, and I don’t want to regret going back to work the second time around. Maybe it will be easier. But maybe it won’t.

I worry baby number two could actually be a tougher kid than number one. The strong-willed attitude, the drama, the gas, the spit up, the screaming, the breastfeeding challenges. Though in my mind this one is going to be way more chill, I may be totally in for it when time comes.

I worry the second time around just won’t be as special. We were amazed by each new step and phase of our first child, but this time we won’t be learning. Life will be more routine. Less photos, less unnecessary extra efforts. I’m already feeling these effects related to pregnancy, and I don’t want to care less about all the special moments just because we’ve done it before.

Let me be clear. I’m not scared of a second child. I’m actually stoked.

I feel confident in parenting. I know the joys a child brings. I am looking forward to soaking up maternity leave – and the first year – to an entirely new level. I can’t wait to grow our family. I look forward to the future and all the family moments we’ll get to share. I know it will be awesome for our son to have a sibling and a playmate.

But if I’m really being honest, even through all the joy, excitement and confidence, the worries and insecurities about baby number two are still there.