The baby romance may have waned, but the family love always remains.

The first time round, there was so much mystery, romance and intrigue.

The second time, not so much.

The not-so dirty little secret is that the second child gets the shaft. The magic of conception, of birthing another being into the world, is gone.

Maybe. But now that we're almost halfway to Bryce day, the reality is it's a reality check tempered with "wait, we're having another what?" and the still thrilling expectation that it may be a

boy

or a

girl

and God please just let it be healthy like Bea.

And in this heart-attack erratic world where tomorrow there may be no jobs, no home, no healthcare, nothing can take away the proud parental intensity of:

• Seeing the first sonogram of our new baby.
• Mama feeling our new baby move (I haven't yet! still too small).
• Hearing the strong heartbeat of Baby Bryce.
• Holding Mama close with hand on the belly.
  
• Both of us holding Bea close in a family group hug.

Even with those moments, our midwife may think we're being anti-climatic when she asks:

"So, you don't really have any other questions right now? You pretty much no what's coming?"

And we chirp like crickets in response.

Yes, we're much more tired awaiting the second with the first in tow, especially for Mama. It dulls the laughter, the libido, the overall focal strength and sometimes us old folk need James Cameron special effects help.

The baby romance may have waned, but the family love always remains.

Anniversary Vistas

October 9, 2009, Midnight

Baby teething all week. Shrieks and crying every other hour it seems. Sleep deprivation. Frustration. Amy is exhausted. I'm helpless to help soothe.

October 11, 1997, Early Afternoon

Alone on Its beach by the lighthouse, writing in journal. Shapely shadow appears. Girl in baseball cap and bikini asks:

Why are you always here alone?

I almost don't answer.

Almost.

October 10, 2009, Morning

End of workout. Stung out. Listening to B notes - songs we picked for Bea's birth. Trace Adkins' sings "You're gonna miss this".

I sit on the bench, crying joyful.

June 1, 2007, Early Evening

Burgers, beers and Scrabble at 99 Bottles. I ask:

So, do you want to have a kid?

You answer:

Okay.

October 11, 2003, Afternoon

Our wedding. Friends and family gather behind us. Amy's father marries us. Vows we wrote are read, crying joyful.

September 22, 2008, Evening

Amy pushes and pushes. 24 hours have passed – at home and the hospital. Finally OB vacuums, pulls and pop – she looks startled, falls back and smiles.

There we go. It was the arm. The baby's arm was up over its head.

I see our little Beatrice for the first time.

May 25, 2007, Early Evening

Sunset at Bryce canyon. Each of us reflecting the other's absence of doubt. A lifetime together of choosing us, without kids.

Our minds have changed.

October 11, 2009, Morning

Bea wakes and we sing her the morning song Amy wrote.

Good morning, good morning, it's time to wake up
The birds are all singing, the sun is coming up
It's a beautiful day for my baby and me
We'll laugh and we'll dance and we'll sing by the sea

Good morning, good morning, a new day is here
Full of bright, sunny smiles and good morning cheer
It's a day full of wonder and lots of good fun
So, let's get up, get going, the day have begun

Sleep deprivation, frustration, exhaustion have fled.

October 11, 2009, Afternoon

We will walk to the place we met. Vows we wrote will be read again, as they are every year on this date.

Crying joyful.

Happy Anniversary Amy!