Twenty-Six and Thinking

Today I’m twenty-six and seventeen weeks pregnant, and I keep thinking about how different this feels from the first time.

Twenty-Six and Thinking

When I found out about Sophie at twenty-one, I cried in the CVS parking lot for ten minutes straight. Not because I wasn’t happy - I was, eventually - but because everything felt so uncertain, so unplanned, so completely out of my control.

This time, we planned it. We talked about timing and finances and whether Sophie was ready to be a big sister (jury’s still out on that one). We did everything “right.” And somehow, that makes it more terrifying. At twenty-one, the pregnancy was a surprise. At twenty-six, it was a plan. Plans are somehow scarier because they mean you actually thought this through and decided yes, let’s do this impossible thing again.

Marcus made me pancakes this morning and Sophie drew me a picture of our family with what she calls “the baby blob” in my tummy. I’m sitting here with my coffee, feeling this little person moving around, and I’m equal parts excited and absolutely terrified. I guess that’s just motherhood - the constant balance between “I got this” and “what the hell am I doing?”

Twenty-six feels different than twenty-one. More settled, but also more aware of what I’m signing up for. I know about the sleepless nights and the crying (mine and the baby’s) and the way your heart walks around outside your body. But I also know about the first smiles and the tiny fingers wrapped around yours and the way love can literally reshape your entire world. So here’s to twenty-six, to baby number two, and to being brave enough to plan for chaos.