"Different baby, different experience". Our doula, Lin, kept telling me that. I didn't really believe her - although I nodded and smiled. She said it when we first met her, when I was about three months pregnant and hadn't really decided between trying for a VBAC and having another c-section. She kept saying it through the intervening months - via text, on the phone and at doctor's appointments. Each time I'd smile and nod and go one being sure that this birth would be as scary as my first. In my plan she was there to help me through the horrible thing that was coming - not to help avoid horror.

Events conspired. They seem to like nothing more than to conspire lately, and they did so again here. We are all alone, my Buddy and I - at least until Sunday.

Fingers are crossed.  

We have hope. 

We have a plan. 

When I first found out I was pregnant I thought of it as a second chance.  Then I thought of all the things that could go wrong. I've been bouncing back and forth between those feelings for the last 8 months. To friends and family I look confident and happy and excited. These are the same people I fooled the last time though.

I woke up exhausted after a shitty night of sleep. Buddy was in a mood to match my own and getting to drop off without either of us crying was a major accomplishment. I ran my first errand of the morning and then decided to reward myself with breakfast at Panera before my second errand - trying to figure out why my father's wireless printer wasn't working. He swore it was because it wasn't plugged in to the laptop. He's 86 so I stopped trying to explain that it was wireless and just said I'd be there by 9:30. There wasn't a lot of traffic by the time I hit the highway, most people were already at work. There were huge trucks everywhere though. They were oversized haulers, carrying big pieces of equipment and the most massive tires I have ever seen in my life. I didn't notice the cop behind me for a while.

Baby #2 is scheduled to arrive on November 2, 2015. So - we know that she won't actually arrive that day, but that's pretty much all I can say that I know. Unlike my first pregnancy I am now secure in the knowledge that I know pretty much nothing.

I hear it all the time: "I thought I was the only one!"  I hear it in support groups and I read it in the comments on blogs and on Facebook. I hear it over the phone and I read it via messenger.  Each mother is totally and completely sure that she is alone in her illness, that she is the worst to ever have these symptoms and that it is her fault. Approximately 950,000 mothers will suffer from a Maternal Mental Illness each year. That is almost ONE MILLION MOMS. That is more than four times the number of women who will be diagnosed with breast cancer this year (about 210,000).