Stupid me made the mistake of thumbing thru "What To Expect The First Year." God, how did we ever make it thru her baby years without maiming her? DH says it's a good thing that I was already pregnant before I read it the first time. He's right.

Why do I only remember the bad parts? Why can't I be like most women and just melt at the thought of babies?

I read "Down Came the Rain" by Brooke Shields today. It was like she was telling my story. I'm so scared to go through it again. I don't want to EVER feel like that. And I don't want to lose myself again. I am just now getting back my individuality.

Is there a happy medium out there somewhere? Is it as traumatic the second time around?

Or is it worse, because you know what's coming?