I’ve struggled with whether or not to write on this topic for many reasons. Feeling guilty for feeling guilty. Worrying that sharing my experience might hurt those facing infertility. And, honestly, admitting these feelings to myself. That part was the hardest.
But I also felt called to write about second baby guilt as a way to process my own emotions, seek wisdom from other mothers who have walked this road, and normalize feelings that so many parents carry quietly. If you’re navigating something similar, I hope this helps you feel less alone.
Note from the author: This article gets personal and raw about second baby guilt. There may be a bit of TMI here and there, but I hope it helps mothers struggling with the same feelings realize they’re not alone. After all, that’s what Baby Chick is all about: inspiring, connecting, and uplifting one another.
Second Baby Guilt
My husband and I knew we wanted to space our kids about 2 1/2 to 3 years apart. So it didn’t surprise me when we started having the conversation in the spring about when we would actually pull the goalie, so to speak. I got off birth control in March because my hormones were in a terrible imbalance, causing everything from dramatic weight and muscle-mass loss (to the point where co-workers asked if I was sick). I also had headaches, dizziness, loss of libido, and decreased energy.
We knew we needed to be careful after I stopped birth control. It had only taken one shot at getting pregnant with our first, and we had three incredibly special weddings coming up that I did not want to miss due to illness. (Okay, I also wanted to guzzle some champagne with my besties. Shame on me.)
To avoid an “oops baby,” I began tracking my ovulation immediately. We made it to July, and through the weddings and other random events I hadn’t wanted to miss, and then my husband was ready to start trying. I’m not saying that I wasn’t ready; I was. I was just also beginning to feel an overwhelming sense of sadness. My son, Fischer, had been my everything for the past two years, and I’d never felt so complete. But this is what we had planned, right? If I got pregnant in July, the kids would be as close to our 2 1/2 year age difference as possible.
My husband didn’t understand why I was hesitant. I told him I would like to wait until August. I thought I would be ready by then. Not to mention that I knew I would be out of town during the time I was supposed to ovulate, so I thought I had the perfect sabotage.
‘THOUGHT’ is the keyword, folks. We did the deed on July 3rd, the day before I left, and one week later, I KNEW. Through a series of interesting ailments throughout my life and struggling with an autoimmune disorder that frequently strikes with a vengeance, I am particularly aware of the goings-on inside my body. So I just knew. Two weeks later, I saw the first of multiple pregnancy tests (only four this time! Last time, it was 9!). My husband was shocked, but should he have been? Probably not.
I cried. And I cried. And I cried some more. Honestly, they weren’t tears of joy. They weren’t tears of joy for some time, which PAINS me to write. I would never want this new baby to think they weren’t wanted. Of course, I should have been ECSTATIC about this new little life, the growing of our little tribe, the partner-in-crime for Fischer. But I couldn’t get over the feeling of loss that seems to go hand-in-hand with this new addition. Funny, right? Adding and losing at the same time… It’s not supposed to work that way.
So, What Exactly Do I Think I’m Losing?
I guess my 100% commitment to Fischer and the maternal bond with my ONLY child. He’s been my whole world and my best little friend for two years. I couldn’t imagine loving someone else how I love him, and I fear there just isn’t enough to go around. He’s losing the spotlight and, at two years old, is not ready to share my love. I fear that my child will resent me, and I can’t even handle the thought of that.
For a couple of weeks, I was losing my mind with grief. Every year, for his birthday, I vowed to write a letter to my son in the little journal I had made, especially for that purpose. Last year, the pages were stained with tears at the realization that my baby was turning one. This year, the hot tears of guilt left streaky pen marks. Oy. I hope one day we look back and laugh.
I tried talking to my husband about this, but he didn’t understand. They never seem to understand these things. Luckily, two of my very best friends had recently become second-time moms, so I reached out to them. In fact, I had reached out to them months ago to voice my fears and concerns, and I was relieved to hear that they had experienced the same emotions.
But I was happy to hear that the additions to their families were not a loss, but a huge gain. They told me there was more than enough space in their hearts to welcome this second little love. And that they adored seeing the first sibling accept the second sibling. They told me their families became even MORE “complete” when they laid eyes and hands on their new little person.
And yet, they were also brutally honest about the changes, and I thank them for that. (And for the continued harping I’ve been doing about this transition.) Yes, you’ll lose time with your first baby, and it’s hard for them to understand. Yes, you’ll feel guilty about it.
But in those moments, guess who gets to step up? Daddy. My friends told me that seeing the bond grow between their partner and child was something more special.
And yes, it’s hard to manage schedules with two babies, and it’ll drive you a little batty. In this way, your first baby suffers a little bit, too, because sometimes you’ll be too exhausted to go to the park. Yes, you’ll forget to take one million photos of the poor second child. Yes, you’ll be exhausted from the round-the-clock feedings for the new baby and trying to keep up with the high-energy toddler. This went on and on.
They’ve both been emphatic about this, but your heart will swell all over again, and you won’t be able to imagine life without both little loves.
So, Where Does That Leave Me?
It took us a few weeks to tell people we were expecting again. Our friends and family were obviously so excited for us. I wanted to be excited, too, and didn’t want to fake it. So, we kept the news close until I had begun to reconcile my feelings. We had our first prenatal appointment at 6 weeks and 4 days and (thankfully) heard the heartbeat. I captured this on video and even got Fischer to say “Baby” at the exact right moment. I think it was after this that my heart began to turn, and I started actively imagining life as a family of four instead of three.
At our next appointment, I was alone and saw an amazing ultrasound of a very, very active little Brussels Sprout (the current size). I cried like a baby. This time, there were tears of JOY. I sent the video to my husband first, then to quite a few other people, and they all shared in the happiness and welcomed anticipation I felt and continue to feel.
Do I Still Feel Guilty?
Sure, sometimes. Okay, a lot of times. Hey! It’s still pretty new!
I get sad when Fischer and I are cuddled in his chair reading books, and I know it won’t be long before this belly is too big to snuggle so tightly. And then I remember that one day he’ll fit again. I get sad when he begs to be held, and I know that my hands will be full with someone else. And then I think there will sometimes be space for me to hold BOTH my babies. I get sad when he cries out for me, and I know I can’t go running because someone else will have my attention. And then I know that Daddy will be there to run alongside them, and their bond will grow strong. (Okay, that one tugs at my heart in a way that makes me a little sad.)
I get sad when Fischer doesn’t understand that he has to share the spotlight with others. And then I realize (and hope) that there will be double the FUN in the spotlight for Fischer and his best pal. I also know that as Fischer grows up, he will also be growing away and will need me less and less, just as he does now. That realization is both a comfort (for the current situation) and a complete nightmare, as I never want my baby to grow up!
And then I wonder how I can feel THAT guilty when I know how much spoiling will be done between now and March. Let’s hope Fischer doesn’t end up TOO rotten at the end of this because I see a lot of trips to the zoo, museums, toy stores, ice cream shops, pet stores, and more in his future!
Thank you for letting me share something so personal. Writing this was not easy. As moms, we often feel pressure to be strong, grateful, and selfless at all times. But we are human, and our emotions are complex.
If you’re carrying second baby guilt, let yourself feel it. The grief, the excitement, the anxiety. All of it is normal, and none of it means you love your children any less.
