So You’re Having Another Baby? (Congrats- No One Cares!)

Let me just start off by saying that I am NOT a Pregzilla. And it’s not just me saying it- I have friends and family that can vouch for me, too. I’m 34 weeks along now, and I haven’t had a single prenatal massage, or even one entire-box-of-Girl-Scout-cookies-in-one-sitting binge (‘Tis the season!), or any fantastic ugly-cry public meltdowns that I later blamed on “the hormones.” If we’re being totally honest, I’ll admit that I did spring for a mocktail at Orsay during my Jax Mom Boss holiday meet-up- but When in Rome, right?

Look at these hot Mamas. I mean, what plumped out preggo WOULDN'T need a cocktail to sit here?
Look at these hot Mamas who let me hang out with them. I mean, what plumped up preggo WOULDN’T need to spring for a mocktail to sit here?

But- here’s the thing- I am still pregnant. With our SECOND baby. Making her a totally different, completely separate, born-almost-two-years-later, tiny human who will in no way be the same child as her big brother. 2014, 2016. Boy, Girl. Bedrest, so far so good. In fact, pretty much the only similarities between these two pregnancies are the deployed husband, the horrific, soul-crushing heartburn, and the fact that each of them began at the Florida Institute For Reproductive Medicine at Baptist Health downtown. And maybe that’s the root of my issue here- the fact that, to even achieve this second pregnancy, I had to be poked and prodded and medicated and monitored and timed and tested. (Thanks, chronic illness. Appreciate ya’.) So, in my mind, #babydubsdos is already Kind Of A Big Deal, when, to the “normal” girls, her existence is a little more any given Sunday… provided that Sunday was in their ovulation window because, you know, science.

A fun fact about second pregnancies? I’m quickly finding out that Nobody. Cares.

Maybe it’s because our first go-round was so recent (I deliver #2 in April and Mac’s second birthday is in June), but most people can’t be bothered. Gone are the daily screenshots of things friends saw on Pinterest that they thought “the baby just HAS to have” and the sweet “Awww! When are you due? Is this your first? How exciting!” has most definitely been replaced with a doubtful, “You’re due WHEN? Guess you’re gonna have your hands full.”  I have at least two people per week tell me, “Oh. That’s right! You’re pregnant again.”- like it totally slipped their mind- when they mention some future plan I have to decline because of either my impending newborn or the fact that whatever they’re inviting me to would in no possible way be any fun sober.

Some of those same friends (and family members!) didn’t show up to my sprinkle, either- with excuses so painfully rude that I can’t even type them here. Like that one person who didn’t RSVP her regrets, didn’t show, and then, when I ran into her a week or so later, said, “I’m totally mailing you something from your registry! And anyway, I was at your REAL shower, the one for Mac- and we really wanted to take the boat out.”Um, WHAT? Even my OB, at my final every-two-week appointment before I switched over to weekly visits, snuck out of the room after 5 minutes with a wave of his hand and a casual, “You know what’s going on here. Let’s just have this baby.”  No. Not you, too!

My 1st Baby Shower, in April 2014.
My 1st baby shower- in April 2014- with my true first born in the foreground. (The pretty brindle and white one? In the red bow?)

Not that I can fully blame them. A lot has happened since Pregnancy #1- not the least of which is our now toddler-aged tornado. If you’ve had toddlers, then you know what I’m saying: Total Survival Mode. Newborns are hard? No, Toddlers are hard. Newborns want to eat, sleep, and be changed. Only God and Wallykazam know what toddlers want- but don’t worry, they’re still screaming about it. Probably in public, and probably without their shoes and/ or pants. I’m still at the point where I feel accomplished getting mascara on while Hurricane Mac is launching blueberries from his highchair, let alone approaching anything close to the hand stitched burp cloths and agonizing month long discussions over which shade of grey to paint the nursery that were So Important when he was the baby-on-the-way.


My second baby sprinkle, in January 2016.
My second baby sprinkle, in January 2016. What would I do without these ladies- several of whom are pregnant with their second, as well? They GET IT.

I guess what I’m saying is, I’m still so preoccupied keeping #babydubs alive, that I sometimes forget I’m allowed to be excited I’m pregnant with #babydubsdos, myself. And I sure as hell know my husband does, when he’s getting off some overnight watch just in time for Mac to wake up, singing at the top of his lungs for milk and a Dora fix. Not that we weren’t busy two years ago, but we’re BUSY now. Too busy for maternity pictures (Mac had a fever that day. And on the day we rescheduled). Too busy for a 3-D ultrasound (That money will be better spent paying for summer camp, I’m sure). Definitely too busy to cut out all the sugar and caffeine (“Hi, Erin! Are you getting your decaf grande no whip mocha today? With a straw?” Um, yes, thank you, Amanda at the Roosevelt Starbucks drive-through, I am.)

So, basically, we second and third and fourth-time moms need you to stay excited for us! We need you to be just as supportive (If not more so- like I said, TODDLERS) for those next babies as you were for the first- because a baby is a baby, no matter whether they’re the oldest, the youngest, or one of three in between. And babies are the best.

Born in The Great State of Texas, Erin grew up in Jensen Beach, Florida. After graduating from Florida State University (Go, Noles!), she managed to wrangle herself a career in fashion management and HR; one that allowed her to live in her favorite places- Ft. Lauderdale, Los Angeles, Austin, Chicago, Palm Beach, & Newport Beach- before her husband, Derek, caught on to her plan. The couple moved to Jacksonville in 2013 for Derek’s second career in the Navy, where they now live happily as a party of four: their son, Mac, joined them in 2014 and their daughter, Josie, came less than two years later. Erin spends her weekends exploring Jacksonville with the fam, her weekdays learning how to be a Stay At Home Mom who’s never at home, and her nights knee-deep in t-shirt designs for Brindle &The Blonde- with one eye on the video monitor, of course.


  1. I’m on baby #2, just turned 12 weeks today in fact, and have only told close friends and family. But it’s obvious the level of “give a hoot” is minimal. Which is whatever, it what it is. It’s just a bummer for me especially, because I didn’t look pregnant until like the tail end of my last pregnancy and we’d moved away from family/friends who DID know, so nobody really ever acknowledged or gave my bump any attention. Missed out on that magic. But it is exciting no matter what, so let’s keep our chins up, bellies out, and best swollen foot forward. Lol. Love to all the mamas, first, second, or millionth.

  2. This is funny… I had my first at 19. At which point everyone told me how to do everything. Their way was the right way. Blah blah. Number two came a year and a half later. And, yes, it was the same as you described. Number thre came at age 36. People no longer offered me unwanted advice. People were nicer. Yet, they figure at this stage in the game, you don’t need an extra hand. Now, number four came at age 42. All I heard were doomsday reports. I had Severe preeclampsia, kidney issues, sugar, you name it…. And, of course, zero help. I didn’t even get calls while in the hospital. Not even after the birth to make sure I survived. Fast forward to severe colic! Yeah, I get what you are saying. For most people, they are nice when it’s easy and convenient. Then again, my in laws are Amish…. They preach gods love…. But, that’s about it.


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