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.

The vibrant moment of light traveling from a universe birthed in the belly of Mama

The rush of heater air through the house vents. The static white noise from the baby monitor. Random swoosh of cars and trucks passing on Highway 1. The creeking joints of the old cat shuffling past my chair.

It's the comforting stillness of pre-dawn family that links the frantically busy days for me, giving them tinker-toy structure where there otherwise would be none. Allowing me to feel my think after too many mind-numbing synaptical transactions.

The physics of this is even simpler yet more ambiguous than it seems, the fact time is relative from moment to moment, seeping beyond and within the linear construct we give it. So much life in so little space like tidal pools we miss under the rush of seas.

These moments are vibrant, like light traveling from a universe birthed millions of years ago -- and they are cruel, like earthquakes killing tens of thousands of impoverished people (find out how to help here).

And they are loving moments of mindful presence, fossils of the heart -- like the moment we met, the world we've seen, and the Bea we conceived.

We took two pregnancy test before this last Christmas: the first was negative, the second positive. We left the second one out like we did the first time with Beatrice, just to ensure that it wasn't an illusion.

But definitely no illusion with the intense punctuated moments of nausea over the holidays and the past couple of weeks, and that was just me (rim shot, please).

Then the pièce de résistance -- the first prenatal visit and sonogram on Thursday -- the vibrant moment of light traveling from a universe birthed in the belly of Mama.

A new universe call Bryce, arriving on earth August 2010.