Reviving the sprinkle
Reviving the sprinkle
Honoring every stage of motherhood
When I was pregnant with my first baby, the world showed up in full force.
Friends organized a virtual baby shower, we received endless congratulations, and I was swept up in the excitement of this massive life change.
It felt monumental, like I was officially stepping into the sacred role of mom.
I soaked it all in, grateful and overwhelmed by the energy swirling around me.
This wasn’t just a life change; it was a rite of passage.
But when I found out I was pregnant with my second daughter, everything felt... quieter.
There was this unspoken understanding that a second baby, especially when they’re the same gender, just wasn’t worth the same excitement.
Even I bought into it.
After all, I already had all the baby gear.
This wasn’t my first rodeo.
What’s the big deal about a second baby anyway?
That’s the whole idea behind “baby sprinkles” instead of full showers, right?
A smaller, simpler event, if it happens at all.
I thought they were unnecessary, and I brushed off the idea of having one.
I didn’t realize how much that mindset would backfire.
Strangers in the grocery store, unaware this was my second pregnancy, would still gush over my growing belly.
But the people closest to me treated it like a non-event.
There wasn’t the same kind of thrill I’d experienced the first time - no stream of people asking how I was doing or cheering me on.
And somewhere along the way, I realized that I started treating it that way too.
Like my second pregnancy didn’t deserve the same celebration or emotional preparation as my first.
Meanwhile, this pregnancy was much harder.
I threw up nearly every day for nine months.
The exhaustion hit me intensely, and unlike my first pregnancy, there was no time to rest.
I had a toddler to chase and tantrums to manage while carrying another human inside me.
Emotionally, the load felt heavier too.
I kept telling myself it shouldn’t be a big deal because I’d done it before, but that just made me feel worse for struggling.
When my second daughter finally arrived, our village showed up in a different way.
Instead of baby gifts, people brought food.
And their support was a lifeline.
Homemade soups, gluten-free baked goods, and DoorDash gift cards arrived just when I needed them most.
Those small acts of kindness carried us through the fog of the early days.
But there was an emotional gap that food alone couldn’t fill.
What I didn’t know back then, and wish I had, was that the transition from one to two kids is huge.
It wasn’t just about logistics, though juggling a newborn and a toddler felt like running a marathon with no finish line.
It was also about reorienting my entire sense of self as a mother of two.
The exhaustion was relentless.
The overwhelm came in waves.
And the isolation was real.
That’s when postpartum depression hit me unexpectedly.
With both daughters constantly demanding my attention, I felt guilty for not giving either of them the focus they deserved.
One’s crying would set off the other, and some days, all three of us would cry in a heap of frustration and exhaustion.
I blamed myself for not handling it better.
I kept thinking, I’ve done this before, I should know what I’m doing.
But the truth is, having a second child isn’t just more of the same.
It’s a whole new stage of motherhood, with challenges just as significant as the first time around.
Eventually, I found my way to a second-time moms group, and that’s when things began to shift.
Sitting in a circle of women who just got it was like exhaling for the first time in months.
I realized I wasn’t alone in feeling overwhelmed, and I wasn’t the only one who’d underestimated how big of a transition this was.
That community gave me the space to vent, to laugh, and to feel seen.
It was exactly the kind of support I hadn’t known I needed.
Looking back, I wish our culture better prepared us for these moments.
We throw baby showers for first-time moms, but with each additional baby, the excitement tends to fade.
But every baby is worth celebrating.
And every mom, whether she’s stepping into motherhood for the first time or the fifth, deserves to feel supported and acknowledged.
That’s why I’ve changed my mind about baby sprinkles.
They aren’t about the gifts; they’re about the pause.
A sprinkle says: We’re here for you.
It’s a moment to acknowledge that each phase of motherhood comes with its own challenges, and no one should have to navigate it alone.
Now, whenever I meet a mom expecting her second baby, I make a point to show up for her the way I wish someone had shown up for me.
I ask her how she’s feeling, gush over her belly, and acknowledge the major change she’s experiencing.
I don’t proactively offer advice, but when asked, I share my experience along with tips that helped me through the transition.
Here are a few ways you can support moms going through that shift, too:
Plan a sprinkle: It doesn’t have to be elaborate. Even a small, intimate gathering can go a long way in making a mom feel celebrated.
Send food: Organize a meal train or drop off homemade meals. Consider dietary restrictions, or if you’re unsure, a DoorDash or UberEats gift card is always a hit.
Bring a small gift for the older sibling: Big feelings are inevitable for older siblings when a new baby arrives. A book, a bath toy, or a special stuffed animal can help them feel included.
Offer babysitting support: A gift card to services like UrbanSitter or Care.com gives parents the opportunity to recharge.
Send flowers: Simple but thoughtful, flowers celebrate the arrival of every baby, not just the first.
In hindsight, I would’ve loved a sprinkle.
Not because I wanted more baby gear, but because I needed the emotional support I didn’t realize was missing until I was already in the thick of it.
Every mom, whether it’s her first or fourth child, deserves to feel supported and celebrated.
Because every stage of motherhood is a big deal.
Namaste,
Tamara