After months of kvetching and soul-searching, my husband Joe and I recently decided to take the plunge and have a second child, who’s now scheduled to make his/her arrival in July.

What tipped the scales for us? As with most tough choices, no one answer is wholly sufficient. For one thing, my husband and I both believe that having a sibling, on a basic level, provides you with a person who bears witness to your life from its beginnings and shares (and thus understands) your history; as well as someone who might share the burdens, emotional and otherwise, that arise as parents age or grow ill and die.

Admittedly, that last part is a bit bleak. So on the lighter end of things, I’d note that another thing that influenced me was thinking, whenever my 2 year old daughter Lily raced across a room to hug the stuffing out of me, how amazing it is to be loved so completely by a little person. “Who wouldn’t want to be loved like this even more?" I'd think at times. "And can I really resist the chance to love another child in the same way?”

Cheesy and overly romantic, I know, but it’s nonetheless true. The answer to “Why would I start from ground zero again?” was ultimately: to feel and receive more ridiculously over-the-top love.

And perhaps not surprisingly, the pregnancy experience the second time around has been completely different so far. Let me count the ways:

1. This time, I waited several days after purchasing a pregnancy test to take it. (The first time around, I was so anxious and nervous that I felt I had to take it the night I purchased it.) Back in early November, I almost felt like I wanted to hold onto my ignorance about my status just a little bit longer. There’s so much hyper-vigilance involved in being pregnant - don’t eat this, but eat lots of this, don’t get in hot tubs, blah blah blah - that I was hesitant to rush back into that constantly watchful state again. But four days after buying the test, I finally took the test while Joe and Lily were out grocery shopping. After they returned home, and we were eating lunch, I said, “Well, my suspicions were confirmed.” “Oh, yeah?” Joe said. “Interesting time to do that.” (Don’t see that exchange on the pregnancy test commercials, do you?)

2. Unlike the first pregnancy, the fact that I’m pregnant sometimes slips my mind for large chunks of time - which is nice. Getting away from that all-consuming consciousness (see above) is refreshing; and because everything isn’t so bizarre and new, I’m calmer about it all.

3. Maybe too calm. In November, I was sent home from my doctor’s office with documents and literature and some lab requisitions for tests, and not only have I read almost nothing, but it wasn’t until after the New Year that I got to the lab. Oops. It’s much harder to discipline myself and focus on the process this time around, especially while being a parent to the child that’s already here. And because I also know that I’ll soon lose the little freedoms we just recently re-gained - reading the newspaper or a novel while Lily plays by herself for a while, etc. - I’m having a hard time giving those moments up before I absolutely have to.

4. Keeping the pregnancy a secret during the first trimester was a breeze this time, in part because it went so much faster. Already being a parent speeds up time considerably.

5. But said kid also makes it impossible to get the extra sleep you so desperately want/need during the first trimester. My first pregnancy seems so decadent in that respect now. “Oh, I’m so tired,” I’d think, “I’ll take a nap after work, and then I’ll sleep for nine hours tonight.” So that was a nice luxury for me back then. This time, no dice. Joe has done his best to divert Lily at times, but she just wouldn’t understand it if I said, “Sweetie, Mommy’s building a person, and it’s wearing her out. She really needs to lie down for a few hours.” Lily wants to play and read with her mommy, just like always. So I’ve been dragging in recent months quite a bit, but if that ends up being my biggest complaint during this pregnancy, I’m golden.

6. I felt like I was showing even before the little blue plus sign appeared on the stick. Yes, though some of it's in your head, the female body does seem to immediately snap back into a “we’re going to need some room down here!” mode. (Thankfully, bulky winter clothes allowed me to hide the truth before we were ready to share.) But even so, I find I’m holding on to wearing my “regular” clothes this time, rather than diving right into the bin of borrowed maternity clothes. I remember, during my first pregnancy, hating the vaguely pudgy, “baby bump” stage that arrived during the second trimester, wherein onlookers couldn’t be sure if I was pregnant or “letting myself go.” So I started wearing maternity clothes before they were a physical necessity, in part, I think, because I thought it would send a clear signal to the world regarding my status; but I was also, in a way, literally trying on the idea of pregnancy and motherhood. These notions seemed so abstract to me at the time that having tangible items - like patently ugly maternity business slacks and blouses - somehow helped make something I couldn't see feel more real. This time around, though, I don’t much care whether people know that I'm pregnant during this in-between stage; and I’m in no hurry to have my daily clothing choices limited.

7. I'm less plagued by constant images of celebrity pregnancies this time around. Halle Berry's pregnancy was concurrent with my first pregnancy, which was, to say the least, irritating. Here she was, splashed across magazine covers, gorgeous and blooming in stylish designer maternity duds, while my also-pregnant sister-in-law and I were showing up for dinners wearing the same stupid black and white maternity work blouse. (We looked like we'd come straight from working a waitressing shift at some bizarre pregnancy theme restaurant.) This time around, Natalie Portman is the Hollywood star who's on the baby track with me; and she's gorgeous, too, but less aggressively so, so it's somehow less annoying.

8. For some reason - and this wasn't true the first time - I haven't had a bad hair day since conception. I don't know what's going on, but that's been an unexpected bonus.

9. During the first pregnancy, my husband Joe went with me to every doctor’s appointment; this time, I’ve gone solo, and I’m totally fine with that. The first time, you’re both fragile and worried about everything that could go wrong. The second time, you generally assume everything’s fine unless you hear otherwise. This sounds less dramatic and romantic, perhaps, but it's far more comfortable, too - a fitting general description of a second pregnancy.

Jenn McKee is the entertainment digital journalist for AnnArbor.com. To read more of her parenting essays, visit www.anadequatemom.wordpress.com. Reach her at jennmckee@annarbor.com or 734-623-2546, and follow her on Twitter @jennmckee.