Second

I’m trying to find moments to think about this second baby. Usually it’s at night when he’s kicking so hard I can’t fall asleep. Ironically, I wanted this baby perhaps even more than the first, yet just over a month away from his arrival am not really feeling much. For one thing, it’s hard for him to compete with the immediacy and tangibility of a two-year old. Not that she’s always a peach—her latest irritating habit is treating my belly like a jungle gym—but she is so present in her affection, joy, and exuberance, it’s hard to imagine myself loving another child the same. The other day we hid under a sheet together and she kept laughing and laughing. She likes to lie swaddled up naked in her towel after a bath and lie like an egg roll next to me on the bed while I read to her, or lie with her head on my shoulder while I tell her the story of David and Goliath for the fiftieth time. She’ll look over at me out of the blue and say, “E happy.”

So I think I feel a little sad knowing that I won’t be the same towards her after the second one comes. I wish I could.

For another thing, I’m still trying to figure out how I feel about having a boy. Let’s face it; the thought of taking care of something with a penis weirds me out. I grew up around girls, and I’m not sure what to do with a boy. I’ve seen fewer healthy mom-son relationships modeled. I think overdone baby boy clothes are naturally tackier than girls’. I don’t really like trucks, dinosaurs, bugs, sports, or farts, which may be a problem. There don’t seem to be any boy names I really like, which is an even bigger problem. We are nowhere near coming up with one that sticks. I’m in the stage where everything turns into a name search. Hm, read a verse from Habbakuk—could that be a boy name? Oh, I just met you, but mind if I ask what your boys’ names are?

One thing I am getting sold on is that the world needs more solid Christian guys. I have to know ten amazing single Christian women for every one guy, which remains a mystery. I’m also starting to think that men can change the world in a way women can’t, just because women are more likely to have to make a larger sacrifice for the sake of having kids.

But all that is a long time away. Right now I feel like the idea of having a second baby is just that; an idea. The world isn’t turning rosy, the light isn’t coming on in my eyes. I’m starting to recall memories of labor pains and zombie days and engorged breasts. I’m waiting for that point where I’ll want him to come out, but really right now I’d rather he stay in there so we can settle into the house more, and I can do stuff like take showers and sleep. Plus it would be sort of nice if we had some name in mind first.