Ah, the second pregnancy. Hindsight is always 20/20, right? By the time my second baby boy arrived, I knew what I really needed. And believe me, it wasn't a play yard and swing in matching blue plaid.

Trouble is -- and my veteran mom pals agree -- it feels weird to ask for the stuff we really want, as most of it seems...un-gifty and utilitarian. In other words, not fun for the gifter to give. 

So I kept mum and got another car seat I didn't need, picture frames, and a crib from my in-laws. Yes, that was generous, but, the first crib is not even three years old. So, if you have a friend who's expecting her second baby, don't wait for her to tell you what she'd like. She almost certainly won't. Go on and pick from this list of can't-fail ideas. You're sure to hear "How did you know?!"

A baby book: If you don't buy it, the poor wee one may have no record of his milestones. We all know how it goes: Every hiccup the first makes is recorded, while the second one, well, his baby book consists of his hospital picture and bracelet in an envelope. Better still: Tell the mom that if she doesn't have time to fill out the book, she can jot things down on a pad or a wall calendar. Then you can come over once a month and transfer the information in your prettiest script. That would honestly make for a pretty stellar new mom gift.

Diapers and wipes: Trust me -- you can never have enough. No, it's not the prettiest new mom gift, but I promise you, it will be the most welcome one. Also in this category are items that run out or wear out quickly, such as nursing supplies, burp cloths, batteries for gear, and baby wash. 

Babysitting services: Not for a night out, necessarily, but if you offer to come over and watch the second baby, so the mom can have some alone time with number one, she’ll be forever grateful.

Clothes: But only in two scenarios: If the second baby is a different gender from the big sib, or same-gender babies born in different seasons. When my second son was born, I got virtually nil in the way of clothes, as everyone figured I had plenty of hand-me-downs. Trouble was, my first guy was born in July. The second came in January, so his brother's first wardrobe was of little use the second time around.

Gift cards for takeout: Being able to order in without worrying about your budget is a new mom gift like no other. Especially when it's 6:30 p.m., hubby is working late, and it's baby's "witching hour." 

Sprinkling of wisdom book: Want to give a new mom gift with a personal touch? Buy a beautiful journal, and have friends and relatives write their best hard-won advice for the second baby to use throughout his or her life. This will be treasured, and it is an especially cute idea if the second-time mom is having a "sprinkle" instead of a full-blown shower.

A new purse: Make it a roomy, chic purse with plenty of pockets. A mom will almost certainly be over carrying a purse and a diaper bag after her second pregnancy. Do her a favor and invest in a gorgeous bag she can stash supplies in now, and still love when diaper days are finally done.

A gift card for a sibling day out: Instead of just a new mom gift, give the entire new family an afternoon at a local children's museum, bounce-house emporium or baby exercise class. Mom will appreciate being able to sit and (relatively) relax with the second baby while her older child is happily occupied. It'll be a great treat for all of them.

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Right before taking the third pregnancy test I called a girlfriend from high school. We hadn’t talked in years, but she was the only person I could think of who recently had a baby. She laughed while saying, “You only need one test to tell you that your life just changed forever.” She was right, but I didn’t believe the first one, the second one made me smile, and I wanted my partner, Jay, to be with me for the third.

I was 26, living in Brooklyn NY, in a tiny apartment with Jay (and two other roommates, because that’s what we could afford). We lived the lives people in their late 20’s lived -- not particularly kid-friendly. However, having been together three years, we had talked about children and decided that in another three years, we would move to Cape Cod, where he grew up, and start growing a family. Only three years turned into three months, since all three pregnancy tests came up positive.

Even though it was a surprise when I found out I was going to be a new mom, I wasn’t shocked to be expecting. I was never the type to mark my calendar; I just knew my period would start at some point. I had a regular visit to my doctor scheduled for February 13^th, but a feeling struck me on January 10^th, and I couldn’t wait. I had this feeling before, but it usually calmed with a test, and then often, tampon purchases the next day. Only this time, I used all three pregnancy tests, and my happiness grew with each positive sign.

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I will never, ever forget the first time I changed my daughter Eleni’s diaper.

It stands out so vividly in my mind. Eleni was my first child, and suddenly, all at once, it was she and I in the room. In that moment, it occurred to me: I was solely responsible for the care and well-being of this newborn.

This was a baby milestone moment for me, whereby I was getting acquainted with my new baby, and she with me, and I must figure out what I needed to do for her -- for the rest of her life.

I had a C-section delivery, so as I was busy having these epiphanies, I was also dealing with my own pain and discomfort. Needless to say, as a new mom, I found myself feeling somewhat vulnerable in that moment.

I remember it like it was yesterday. The nurse came into my room and said, “Mrs. Truitt, your baby is here.” They rolled her in, and I struggled to sit up and hold her. She was bright eyed and working me over. We sat there for over 40 minutes, while I breastfed her and spoke to her. There were a lot of kisses, too.

After a while, I thought to myself, ‘she hasn’t cried once.’ I didn’t smell any signs of her having soiled her diaper, and I thought all of this was very strange for a newborn. So I got up and shuffled to the changing table to check.

When I opened her diaper, it was full of that dark, gooey meconium. I remember saying to her, “You dirty girl! You never even screeched to let me know there was anything there!” I didn’t even know all of the ins and outs of how to change a diaper yet, but I gave it my best first try!

At that moment, I realized that she wasn’t going to help her amateur new mom out with cues -- I was going to have to check her diaper to see what treasures she released on a schedule.

I will never forget that moment for as long as I live. Now, five years later, Eleni is still somewhat reserved, and just like that first diaper change, I am kept on my feet, always learning from her, and about her, all the time.

Photo by Ádám Szabó on Unsplash

My daughter, Morgan, was 8 months old when she started saying her first word: ‘dada.’ My husband may have “won,” but seeing how happy it made him and knowing how proud we were eased the pain of losing. After all, ‘dada’ is much easier to pronounce than ‘mama.’

As much as my husband loved hearing his child say ‘dada,’ he knew she called everything ‘dada.’ It was all she could say, which made it a bit less meaningful. Even still, he didn’t waste a second bragging about our baby’s first word.

I was feeling a bit down, but hopeful, when a mere week later, she looked up at me during a diaper change and said ‘mama.’ The excitement of hearing those two syllables took over my body, and tears began to flow while my smile continued to widen.

I could tell it was more difficult for her to say, but she continued with her new word. It took curling both lips over her toothless gums to pronounce it correctly. She would drag out the second ‘ma’ to pronounce as “mamaaa-aaa,” in almost a whining/singing tone. But it was the most beautiful sound I ever heard.

After that day, it took weeks to hear ‘mama’ again, while ‘dada’ was bountiful. Yet in the rare occurrences that ‘mama’ was spoken, it was only while I was around and was directed at me. On the other hand, ‘dada’ referred to books, food, bath time: just name it.

At 13 months, Morgan’s personal dictionary has been filled with a few more first words, including hi, yes, yuck, and up. And with each new word, I always feel a sense of pride in knowing her language is developing, and she’s reaching this important baby milestone. However, I will always remember her identifying me as that ‘mama’ she’s been hearing about, and saying my name in the most loving way possible.

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“Any day now,” my ob-gyn said two weeks before my due date of January 23, 2013. I was 4 centimeters dilated and 80 percent effaced, meaning I was going to meet my daughter soon. That day, I hugged my co-workers goodbye, organized the baby’s armoire for the 15th time, had my husband fuel up the car, and waited. My due date came and went -- nothing.

I continued the countdown for a few more days, crossing the 28th off the calendar, and went in for another checkup. My doctor looked perplexed. “I’m rarely wrong,” she said, eyeing my bump. “You shouldn’t go beyond a week and a half,” she added. “We may have to induce.” She gave me a few dates to choose from for an induction, but I was intent on going into labor naturally. I didn’t think my late delivery would go much longer. So I took my belly home and researched ways I could hurry things along: long walks, spicy food, pineapple juice. Check, check, check, but still nothing.

A few days later I came across another suggestion: eggplant parmigiana! I read about a restaurant in Georgia that has served this dish to more than 300 expectant mothers who reportedly gave birth within 48 hours. I was skeptical but decided to take a chance, if only to enjoy a nice lunch before my days of eating out were put on pause. Three hours later I felt a few twinges that slowly escalated into full-blown contractions. Coincidence?

I was in labor. Here we go, I thought. I called my husband at work, and he quickly reminded me of the old 5-1-1 rule (contractions should be 5 minutes apart, lasting 1 minute each for 1 hour). I sat on my couch and thought about all those women who had regaled me with stories about how they did the laundry or went to the movies while they were laboring. I couldn’t concentrate on anything else.

Around 10 p.m., the contractions were coming quickly -- 5-1-1 was in full effect -- so I met my ob-gyn at the hospital. But a quick check of my cervix revealed I wasn’t sufficiently dilated. My choices were simple: Go all the way home and labor some more, or stay in the hospital and be induced. I later discovered my doctor had scheduled me for an induction at 6 a.m. the next day, which meant there was a hospital bed waiting for me.

I still thought my baby would arrive before daybreak, so I decided to stay the night. It must have been quite cozy inside my belly because she didn’t budge on that cold winter’s night. The next morning I was induced and Eva made her fashionably late entrance into the world at 7:24 p.m. on February 1, 2013. We forgave her lack of punctuality as soon as we saw her beautiful little face.

Photo by Xavier Mouton Photographie on Unsplash