Second Child Syndrome

I have been far from proactive in preparing for this upcoming labor and delivery. I see how easy it is to let a second child come into the world without as many bells and whistles as the first. Poor second child syndrome. I am probably fostering it.

Yesterday I was very proud of myself for taking some intiative and pre-registering with the hospital. This is something that has been on my to-do list for at least a month. I confidently logged in to the hospital's website and carefully provided the most intimate details of my life online, details that would make any identity thief salivate. I was so pleased with myself when I completed the online registration. It was 9am, and I felt like I had done a solid day's work. Thirty minutes later I received a phone call from an unusual area code. I assumed it was a telemarketer, so I sent the call to voicemail. The call was from a sweet woman, Cindy, at the Alamance Regional Medial Center, confirming my registration. I realized that in my zeal to be proactive for this second child I registered at a hospital in Northern North Carolina, not the hospital down the street from my house. Again, poor second child syndrome; everything seems to get lost in the shuffle. Thankfully when I returned Cindy's call I received her voicemail. I was not ready to discuss my complete oversight and lack of awareness. It was a relief to leave a voicemail stating that I mistakenly registered for a completely wrong hospital, in a town I had never heard of, and to please cancel my resgistration. Later in the evening I received another voicemail from Cindy. She graciously offered me Internet browsing tips and provided the web address to the hospital where she presumed I was intending to register. Few things are finer than a gracious middle-aged woman leaving late evening voicemails with advice for navigating the Internet. She must be trying to break the cycle of second child syndrome.