“I'm 33 weeks along and I’ve got pregnancy insomnia."

It’s 3am and I’m lying in bed willing myself to get some much-needed shuteye before our energetic 15-month-old wakes up. It’s now been six weeks of on and off winter sickness and not much sleep for all of us. Add the fact that I’m 33 weeks pregnant and to say I’m pretty knackered is an understatement.

But I’ve got pregnancy insomnia.

Why is it that when we most need sleep it’s often so hard to achieve? It’s such a cruel fact of life that pregnant women often suffer the worst insomnia, when we clearly need all the rest we can get.

My mind won’t stop racing and it’s frustrating the sh*t out of me. Apart from “Go the f*ck to sleep!”, my thoughts are all about how I’m going to cope when baby Number Two comes along. As time flies in the lead up to Number Two’s arrival I’m finding myself more and more frantic about the logistics of having two children under 18 months and increasingly sad that my time with just my little man is coming to an end.

When we found out we were pregnant again (and yes, to all those who always ask, we WERE trying) of course we felt so unbelievably blessed. We wanted to have our babies close together so it was perfect. But amongst the joy were some niggling feelings…

It’s all well and good thinking about a potential second baby in theory, but once that little extra line on the pregnancy test appears reality starts to bite. I thought I was prepared, but three words immediately came to mind – I’m. Not. Ready.

The joys of being a very nauseous pregnant woman changing a very full toddler nappy, of having him follow me into the bathroom every time I had to throw up, of needing to chase him around the house when all I wanted to do was lie on the couch and ‘die’, of him now being able to run right at the point when my waddle is slowing down to a elephant-like stagger and catching him running full tilt at the road or the ocean is next to impossible… These are all the things I never thought of.

Now, in the dead of night, a series of questions haunt me. Will our firstborn hate us for going again so soon? Will he cope? He knows something’s about to happen, and has gone from sleeping through the night in his own bed to waking every single night at midnight needing to be cuddled back to sleep in our bed. He’s clingy and hates it when I leave his side (the daycare drop off is TORTURE).

Will I cope? My husband and I already don’t have any time to ourselves, with him working long hours and us not having family around. I know our relationship is strong and will most certainly survive, but how will it thrive?

Then there are the logistical questions. How on earth do you breastfeed a newborn for up to an hour with a toddler in the next room wrecking everything in sight and climbing from the couch onto the windowsill (our first’s latest trick)? It’s beyond me.

But in the wee hours of the morning what gets me through is knowing that I was the same during my first pregnancy. We wished for our first for ages, then when it happened I was Freaking. The. Hell. Out. Stressing about every little detail and constantly worrying I wasn’t ready. I now know that’s normal.

When it boils down to it, I’ll manage two in the same way I managed the arrival of one – go with the flow, wing it and just get through.

I know it’ll be tough. I know I haven’t even begun to experience the type of exhaustion that’s in my future. But, I also know it’ll be absolutely amazing.

What I am ready for is making room in my heart for another little person – the unconditional love, the cuddles, the first moments, and all the hard moments.

See you soon, Number Two.

What keeps you up at night?