Two and a half years. Just thirty months. That’s all of the time I had with my first born before I lost her…

To baby #2.

Okay, so I’m being dramatic. But I’m in my 40^th week of pregnancy with my second baby, waddling, sweaty, and hormonal—this is normal right?

Sitting on the brink of this life change, I can’t help but ooze nostalgia over every last milestone with my firstborn. I linger with each bedtime and give in to every request for just one more story. I relish her little hand in mine, before it’s occupied by a car seat or diaper bag. Last Saturday, I soaked up potentially our last lazy morning of the three of us, all snuggled up watching cartoons.

As I watch her splash in the baby pool, chasing bubbles, or reciting “Righty! Lefty! Righty! Lefty!” as she buoyantly climbs our front steps {a side effect of having a physical therapist for a mom}, I find myself asking, “How can any kid match her?” How will I love her AND another baby, without depriving one of them?

I know, she’s not being shipped off to Siberia. In my heart of hearts, I know that I’m being silly and I’m not at all done being her mama—there are many more bedtimes and lazy Saturdays ahead of us. And I know I’ll be instantly smitten with this sweet babe in my belly, just as I was the first time.

It just seems so hard to imagine.

We don’t know the gender of our newest little one, and without a doubt, we are excited to meet this kiddo. We are excited to relive the newborn coohing and naps on our chest, excited to watch our girl become a big sister. So why am I simultaneously washed in sadness as I relish these last few days as a family of three?

It’s because the last two and half years have just been the greatest blessing. Becoming a parent and learning to love another life so severely, alongside your spouse, has just been the most amazing experience. It has bonded my husband and I in a way I never imagined. And we have cherished every minute of this learning experience, as we have navigated and problem-solved sleep training and gas, baby proofing and tantrums. We have celebrated every poop and cooh and milestone along the way. The three of us have traveled this journey together and we’re all so crazy about one another, it just feels like our own secret little club. Is it terrible to confess it feels a little…risky…to take in a new member? What if they mess up our whole vibe??

(Please don’t ever read this, baby #2)

I know that great things are in store for our family—that my heart will again explode in love and I won’t be able to imagine life without this child. But for now, all that I want to do is soak up these precious days with my firstborn, while my heart is all and only hers.

Sweet girl, thank you for teaching me how to love beyond what I ever knew I was capable of. Thank you for being my guinea pig, letting me experiment and fail and learn about what it takes to be a mom—how to love, how to accept, how to discipline, how to forgive. I have relished every second of being your mama and I will never forget our first years together when you were my one and only.