The Second Time Around.

I have had lots of dreams about this little nugget in my belly lately. I guess being 36 weeks pregnant, I am getting really, really excited about the day I get to meet this little girl. To see her face. To kiss those sweet little baby feet. I find myself daydreaming about this day when we finally get to welcome baby #2 into our little family.

I keep going back to this day:

The day our first little nugget was born. While I wish I could say it was perfect, and she was placed on my chest after a perfect and easy delivery...I can't.

Because it was most certainly not. After a failed epidural, emergency c-section and having to be knocked out completely due to said epidural....my first memories of my nugget happened in the recovery room. I never heard her first cry, anyone saying "it's a girl!" or getting to see her face or Anthony's face as soon as she came out.

I remember Anth sitting next to me while I woke up, I didn't hear a baby crying and I remember I was really nervous. He assured me that she was fine and that she was doing great. I finally remember getting wheeled into the recovery room and finally getting to hold her. I remember thinking "Oh my God! Should I feed her?! Do you think she's hungry?!" and the angel of a nurse who had been with us the entire time showing me what it was exactly that I was supposed to be doing. It was all so unreal. In a matter of minutes we had this tiny little human, with a carbon copy of her daddy's nose. She was beautiful, she was healthy. She was perfect.

I think I keep reliving this day because although I had zero expectations when I was pregnant with her, it was most definitely not at all how I had envisioned her coming into this world. My birth plan for Quinn? Didn't have one. A healthy mama and baby was all I asked for. I have to admit, this time around when I first got pregnant? I was VERY into a VBAC and even tossed around the idea of getting a doula and all that jazz about having a natural child birth. Yup. The girl who basically asked the receptionist in the emergency room for an epidural. This entire pregnancy, I feel like I've done a lot of thinking, researching and overall just sorting out in my brain about pregnancy and delivery.

And I came to a conclusion.

So this time, while I am attempting a VBAC, I honestly can say that I have zero expectations. I want to try for one, because I am good candidate for one and I would love to have the experience of pushing out a baby. But you know what? Maybe that's just not in the cards for me, and that's ok. In the end, I am going with my original plan of please just let me go home with a healthy baby. Will I get an epidural? Most likely. Will contractions hurt this time as much as they did with Quinn? Who knows. I do consider myself a bit more educated this time, with a little more experience and definitely not afraid to ask questions or speak my mind when it comes to doctors telling me what I should do.

Whether I remember Harper's first cries or not, whether I have a c-section, water birth or one full of drugs and red wine and Enya playing in the background...... I know this is what is waiting for me at the end:

An endless amount of love that I never knew was possible. A chance for Quinn to experience a sister/sister relationship that I never had. Experiencing not only love for the new baby, but to fall in love all over again with Quinn because she will no doubt be the best big sister ever. Nothing but love. Everything that we've experienced with Quinn up to this point....getting to do it all over again.

And having done this already? I know that what happens when you bring the baby home from the hospital is more important than how the baby comes out of me. The late night (and early morning) feedings, the endless baby kisses, the wrinkly skin, the sleep deprivation, and utter delicious-ness that comes with a newborn.

And that?

Is all that matters to me.