Now, don’t get any crazy ideas here, especially since I recently revealed I’m pregnant. This isn’t a post where I come clean about an addiction to any vices that would land me on a reality TV show. Instead, I just wanted to make a little confession.

I think I’m addicted to making babies.

It’s just this amazing, overwhelmingly addictive process for me:

the moment we decided to have a baby
the day I saw those two faint lines
the pattering of a healthy heartbeat
the tides of nausea in the first trimester
the contentment in your heart
the little bump you can’t imagine will grow exponentially
the tiny flutters that turn into hard kicks as womb room runs out
the overwhelming sense of purpose and protection
the realization that it’s time
the moment of unknown before you push
the wail that is music to your ears
the love that you never thought possible

I’ve said it many times before, and I know most people think I’m crazy: I have missed being pregnant. It is amazing to share your body with a little being, knowing you’re harboring, fueling, nurturing and growing your child. Despite how often they happen, pregnancy and birth truly are miraculous.

Looking back, I realize just how great—and relatively easy—of a pregnancy I had with James Michael. Even if this pregnancy is much harder on me, I know I’ll love it all the same.

I have no idea what the future will hold, whether we’ll stop at two kids or have three or four. But I know I’ve been ready for #2 for months. I remember telling James that I was ready for #2 when James Michael was about two months old. Yes, I was still punch drunk on new baby love. But my body wasn’t close to ready back then, and looking back, I’m thankful for that. Despite the fact that James Michael is now a year old, I’m still on a baby high and won’t be disappointed in the least if I remain on the baby train for a few more years.