Last fall, my partner and I celebrated our love in a cozy upstairs space of the charming café where we first met. Surrounded by just 11 family members, we exchanged vows, as my 5-year-old daughter from my previous relationship twirled joyfully between us. Our wedding, decorated with homemade touches and accompanied by a Spotify playlist, was a stark contrast to our first, more elaborate ceremonies. Yet, it felt special — even if a few folks raised their eyebrows at the idea of not choosing a courthouse for our second wedding.
For those who have experienced both extravagant weddings and the heartache of divorce, the size of the celebration has no bearing on the quality of the relationship. Still, as the months have rolled on, I find myself grappling with a sense of loss for the elaborate festivities we didn’t have.
Reflecting back, I was a single mom when I began dating my partner, and the only time he’s seen me in a dress has been during somber occasions. I can’t help but wish I had donned a stunning gown and witnessed his reaction as I walked down the aisle. I long for the lively reception filled with laughter, dancing, and our loved ones coming together to celebrate our union — many of whom still don’t even know we’ve remarried. I regret not capturing the moment with a professional photographer; all we have now is a single, blurry snapshot as a keepsake.
More than anything, I lament that we didn’t use the excitement and joy that typically accompany a first wedding to celebrate our love, instead pouring it into our previous marriages.
Now, as we prepare for our baby girl’s arrival, it’s clear she is our second child. By this stage in my first pregnancy, I had meticulously decorated a nursery, installed the car seat, and arranged the stroller, bouncer, and swing throughout the house. I had even treated myself to a 3D ultrasound, enjoyed multiple baby showers, and captured the moment with a maternity photo shoot. The anticipation was palpable.
In stark contrast, as I approach my third trimester this time, our preparations are minimal. We have a handful of free diaper samples, a crib mattress snagged on sale, and my 20-week sonogram images sitting amidst the clutter of bills and coupons. We’re still debating names, often referring to her as “Sparkle,” a name suggested by her big sister, which may just stick if we don’t decide soon.
As an only child, I never considered how a second baby might receive less fanfare. But looking back at my own experiences — both in marriage and motherhood — it’s evident that with each subsequent time, we gain wisdom that often dulls the thrill of the unknown. We have the chance to do things differently but sometimes lose the enthusiasm that once fueled our joy.
However, as I glance across the room at our fuzzy wedding picture, I’m reminded of the happiness that radiated from us on that day. Despite being a second child, our daughter will be celebrated with the same hope, joy, and love that her sister received. This time around, we’re armed with the lessons learned from our past relationships and parenting experiences, which will ultimately enrich her life.
For more insights on preparing for a new addition to your family, check out this blog post on pregnancy. If you’re considering at-home insemination, Make a Mom offers reputable kits that can help you. Additionally, the CDC provides excellent resources for pregnancy and home insemination.
In summary, while the journey of parenting a second child may not mirror the first, it brings with it a unique kind of joy and celebration that deserves to be acknowledged.