We knew, when Sarah was pregnant with Ty, that we wanted to have a second child. After Ty was born, we talked about it here and there, but mostly during light conversation. It wasn’t until around six months ago that the conversations became more detailed and the planning part began to take shape. After the decision was made – heck, even until, and while, we were “trying” – we never put any serious thought to life with multiple children. Then we got the blue line. That was when the figurative voice boomed through the figurative speakers in our home, “This sh** just got real!”

Where will Version2 sleep? Will I have to clear out the office and turn it into a bedroom? How will Tyler react and adjust? Et cetera ad infinitum.

I asked Sarah if she wanted me to take weekly belly pictures like we did with Ty. She gave me the typical look any loving wife gives her husband for asking a ridiculous question and said, “Of course I do.”

Then she took a sip of her (caffeinated) coffee. Coffee she wouldn’t drink while pregnant with Tyler. This is when *it* began. *It* being one of two things.

On my irrational days, *it* was the fact that this pregnancy isn’t the same because this is our second child. It’s not new, like the pregnancy with Ty was. We don’t care as much.

On my more level-headed days, *it* is the knowledge that we were FREAKS during the first pregnancy. Lay like this, sleep like that, no caffeine, no artificial sweeteners, DO YOUR KEGELS!!!! It was almost to a level of neurosis. Given the opportunity, I would have wrapped Sarah in bubble wrap and locked her in a nuclear fallout shelter until the end of the gestation period. How she stuck with our marriage during the torture I put her through is beyond me. Meanwhile, Ty was partying like a fetal rockstar, taking late-night fetal karate classes, and using Sarah’s bladder to practice for his first boxing match.

I know that I deeply care about this newly created life that is barely larger than the Lightening McQueen Hot Wheels car that Ty loves so much. But…

I’ve already missed the first two OB appointments and have had to admire my beautiful Version2 through printed ultrasound pictures that Sarah brought home. I remind myself that I had no choice due to some important work projects, and take solace in the fact that Ty was there to watch the “baby movie” with his mommy.

It has also occured to me that I’ll either need to delete over 90% of the pictures I have of Ty, or be prepared to take thousands of pictures of Version2. My friends and family would honestly murder me if I did the former, so I’ll get Version2 familiar with the sound of a shutter slamming shut on short order.

Rubbing Sarah’s belly a few mornings ago, nearing in on thirteen weeks pregnant, I said, “We need to start taking belly pictures soon.”

She heard what I didn’t say. That we are slackers. She lowered her head, mildly ashamed.

“His middle name is neglect.”

At the end of the day *it* is the knowledge that Tyler takes up a significant portion of our days now. All the time we sat and admired the growing life form in Sarah’s belly during her pregnancy with Tyler… that time simply doesn’t exist any longer. To feel like we’re neglecting the little one right now is, in and of itself, pretty irrational. I’m sure all parents of multiples went through – or are currently going through – similar thoughts and feelings.

But, we really need to start taking those belly pictures.

Some of my more keen readers may have noticed the word “his” while referring to Version2 a few paragraphs up. No, we do not know the sex of Version2. I find it highly impersonal referring to the baby as “it”, and I only use “Version2″ here on the site, so we refer to the baby as a unknown-gendered “he”.

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