The Second Gets Shafted

I've heard this all along. The second kid gets shafted. When you're pregnant the first time, you have nothing to do but sit around all the time and think about and prepare for your child. You read all the books. You do the exercises. The name is picked out early. The nursery is finished early. You do research into the best baby gear. You play classical music to your stomach. You carve out time each week with your spouse to read the Pregnancy Week by Week book together, cuddled on the couch, spending time thinking about each other and the miracle inside. When baby finally arrives, there are a million pictures taken a day. Oh, look at that! First bath. First smile. First time the cat showed any interest. First time in your alma mater's gear. Not one second of your child's life is undocumented. And the attention. Oh, the attention. Your first child's cries are tended to immediately. They are held constantly, passed from one loving set of arms to the next. Not one moment of their life is void of attention and entertainment.

And then you get pregnant again. And already you start to notice the difference. Rather than sitting around researching the newest trends in gear or playing classical music to your belly, you are chasing around your toddler, trying to get them fed, trying to get them to put their clothes back on, trying to pick up their toys after they fly through your living room like a banshee. When baby is in bed, rather than snuggling on the couch, thinking about the new baby, you and your spouse do chores, attempt to get the house back in shape, attempt to prepare for the next day, and if you happen to have an hour left before passing out into the sweet oblivion of sleep, you tend to want to do anything BUT talk about babies. You long for 30 minutes to yourself, your adult thoughts, your adult world, your adult television shows and your books that have nothing to do with parenting. When the baby finally arrives, after an initial flurry of photos, there's just no way to keep up with the precedent set by your first. Rather than taking 50 pictures of your child in a cute new dress, you are busy trying to keep your first from coloring on the walls while just be grateful your second hasn't spit up on the dress yet. The nap times that were spent uploading all the pictures the first time around are now spent with whichever child is NOT napping. When your second cries, you rush to him or her . . . as soon as you are done getting your first down for a nap or disentangling them from your leg where they've wrapped themselves so tightly they simply move along with you when you take a step. You can't hold your second all the time because you have to share your lap and your arms with your first. Everyone learns the art of sharing, including mom.

So yeah. The second kid gets relatively shafted.

But what I'm also learning is that the second pregnancy gets shafted to. Not from the kid's perspective. From MY perspective.

When I was pregnant with my first, TH was concerned and attentive, sometimes to the point of overbearing. He'd keep me off my feet. He'd do all the chores. He'd ask how I was feeling and if he could rub anything. He wouldn't let me lift anything or climb anything or do anything. He'd be sensitive when I felt flooded by hormones, defaulting to be more easy going than ever. He'd ask me things like, "Where do your hormones want to go for dinner?" He wouldn't look at me like a crazy woman when I cried over nothing. He would listen to my often illogical ranting and make me feel like I was completely justified in everything I was feeling. In short, he was the perfect pregnant-woman's husband.

I once heard mention on a message board to enjoy the first-pregnancy husband while he lasts, because everything changes with the second. I scoffed at the idea. I didn't believe it. Not MY husband. He is unique. Different than the rest. Surely his attention would never wane, his gentleness would never harden. Those poor women who had hard, uncaring, insensitive husband's. Poor them.

And then I got pregnant again.

And from the get-go, things were different. One of his first questions was, "We don't have to read all those books again, do we?" As if it were a chore. As if they were something he had suffered through. Weeks passed, and we rarely talked about the newest baby on the way. We were busy with our first, busy with our lives. He still expected the normal amount of help from me with keeping up with the house, the laundry, the chores. He didn't understand when I would snap emotionally about something, and he'd often snap back. A totally justified response normally, but gone was the man who understood the hormones racing around inside, making my already emotional personality magnified to the nth degree. He even admitted one day that he'd forgotten about the pregnancy emotions. But then after that realization, he seemed to forget about them right over again. I tried to tell him that I felt like we weren't doing anything to get ready for the baby, and he took it as a criticism and was defensive. I tried to ask him for help in the evenings and he snapped back about his job and how he can't please everyone. He says things like, "What's with the attitude?" rather than already knowing and understanding what is with my attitude.

He is, of course, still a wonderful husband and father. He does chores and our finances and bath time with baby girl of his own accord and nearly always without any complaints. He makes a lunch for me and baby girl every morning. If I tell him I need something, he wants me to have it. He wants to take care of me and our family.

But this second time around just isn't like the first.

So ladies out there, if any of you are pregnant with your first, enjoy. Enjoy the time you have to sit and wonder and imagine and plan and prepare and dream. Enjoy the attention your first is already getting in utero. And enjoy the husband, who, no matter how sweet and attentive he naturally is, will never again match his own sweetness and wonderfulness during this time.

Dos and I already have something in common, something we can bond over in the days and weeks and months to come. Seconds.