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The first time I was pregnant I felt like I joined a club. Once my belly was obviously round enough I was actually excited to enter the secret clubhouse that is Motherhood Maternity; or any other maternity clothing section for that matter. It was like a right of passage. I found bits of my wardrobe pulled from various sources, but such efforts did not deter my enthusiasm for dressing the new and ever-growing shape of my body.

My husband was thrilled with how my curves were filling out and told me countless times how sexy I was. Each morning he asked several times how I was feeling. As I walked the halls of work with my fancy panel career pants and flowing blouses, compliments greeted me left and right. I imagined I had a special glow and thought of my seemingly beautiful belly and wonder of the baby more than anything else. It thoroughly consumed me.

This time around it's different. All of us in the house forget about the pending addition brewing in my belly as we are caught up in daily routines. I have to remind myself to eat instead of charting out well balanced afternoon snacks. The need to turn to maternity clothing happened sooner and with far less enthusiasm. The image of a mother-to-be looks anything but cute or sexy to me no matter what attempted style is draped on the model or mother. The glow is not there. The glamour is gone.

I have put off obtaining my new round of Household Management maternity garb long enough. Here is my rough guide for this month's reluctant shopping:

For one year we waited for the stork to bring us this new bun for the oven. I started to truly believe we would not have another child through the traditional method of conception. The day we took the positive test I jumped and screamed with delight as greatly as when my husband did the day the Diamondbacks won the World Series in 2001. Please do not mistake my grumbling for lack of gratitude.