I am now well into my second pregnancy. Having conceived through IVF the first time, we were fortunate to have another embryo stored away in a freezer. It is incredible that a tiny cluster of frozen cells, already a life, can survive, suspended in time for years. The science behind the process continues to amaze me.
This second pregnancy is very different from the first, partly because I’ve been battling morning sickness. I’ve never had it before and now feel like I’ve been swaying on a boat for months. Although the second pregnancy is less consuming than the first, I still lie in bed trying to detect a heart beat. But I don’t compare the size of the baby with items in my fruit bowl each day (yes, there is an amazingly popular app that does that). And I don’t stress over the pepperoni I had on my pizza last night. My two-year-old ensures I don’t have the time for any of these things.
A growing family means a need for more space. Our flat is on the market and we are house-hunting. We seem to be losing out in frenzied bidding wars on houses I’ve already mentally moved into and redecorated, imagining our family gathered around the kitchen table or playing in the garden. I have mixed emotions about leaving the little space we’ve lived in for so long. I’ll have lasting memories of us moving in as newlyweds, building our first home together and having a baby. Yet I’m equally excited at the thought of the next stage. Meanwhile, our dachshund, Budgie, is bound to be unimpressed. Not only are we uprooting her territory, but there’s a new family member on the way and she can sense it.
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