When I found out I was pregnant, I told John I bet at least one of our couple-friends would be pregnant at the same time. One? How about four?  One is a friend from childhood, one is a fellow blogger, and the other two are due within a week of me. And I’m only ten weeks in!

 

A second baby means a second pregnancy, and while the first one went very, very well, I do have some goals for round two.

 

Goal 1. Stay in better shape. Talking walks instead of sitting at a desk all day should help. Oh, and my other giant child, Jacob. Oh, and the fact that dairy makes me ill. Speaking of dairy . . .

 

Goal 2. Produce a child who is not allergic to the better part of a cheeseburger. I’m not tolerating dairy well, so my hopes are not high on this front; but then, who knows? Maybe it’s a prenatal defense mechanism.

 

Goal 3. Go into labor. This is not as obvious as it sounds; with Jacob I was induced because he was a) late and b) a giant baby. While I’m not really looking forward to contractions, etc., I do want to experience that moment when I know it’s all about to happen.

 

And while it’s still far away, I have a goal for No. 3, when that time comes:

Be something like six months pregnant during Thanksgiving. Feast times two! Imagine: “I’ll take the pumpkin pie, please. No, not a slice. The whole thing.” No queasiness, just a huge belly to fill. This also means I could be an oven with a bun in it for Halloween. Good idea? Good idea.

 

Ahh, the joys of being preggo.