I gave birth to a second child a few months ago. I don’t think I will ever get over the fact that this is the way people come into the world. It’s a ridiculous endeavour, from start to finish.

My first pregnancy was almost comically miserable for the first 20 weeks, then glorious for 10 weeks, then scary and stressful for the remainder. And this time? More intense in every way, but with added toddler. Which is to say: no breaks, suck it up, keep on moving.

The soothing bedtime story I told myself whenever pregnancy insomnia let me sleep was: “At least you know what you’re doing this time.” It’s what I told myself as I made a spartan list of things people could buy for the baby, which I then mostly bought myself. It’s what I murmured under my breath as I counted and washed the previous baby’s hand-me-downs. When pregnancy-induced carpal tunnel syndrome showed up and the crib still hadn’t been assembled and the new pushchair hadn’t arrived, I comforted myself with deep breathing. Inhale – atleastyouknowwhatyou’redoing – and exhale – thistime.

And you know what? I did!........

© The Guardian