My Mama Mode Started Before Baby #2 Even Existed

Okay so—grab your iced white chocolate latte, sit down with me for a minute, and let’s talk about a super weird, completely unexpected phenomenon that nobody bothers to warn you about when you start thinking about expanding your family: mama mode starts way before there is an actual baby.

Like, long before.

I used to think “mama mode” was something that switched on the second you saw those two pink lines on a stick, or maybe the moment you heard that tiny little heartbeat echoing in an ultrasound room. But listen… when Hubs and I finally took the plunge and decided we were ready to start trying for baby number two (if you missed that emotional rollercoaster of a decision, you can catch up on all the overthinking in my last post right here), something in my brain shifted overnight.

I didn’t instantly go out and buy microscopic baby socks. I didn’t start building a secret Pinterest board full of wooden baby gyms or arguing with Hubs about baby names while we cooked dinner.

Instead, the very first thing I did was walk into our bathroom, lean against the counter, look directly at myself in the mirror, and say out loud: Okay, Annie. Let’s get this body as healthy as we possibly can first.

No confetti. No dramatic music. Just a mama, a bathroom mirror, and an instinct so fierce it practically took my breath away.

The moment “maybe someday” turned into “okay, right now”

If you’ve been around here for a minute, you know our life in Colorado is wonderfully, beautifully chaotic. Our 4-year-old, Luke, is a endless bundle of boy energy. Between hiking up mountain trails on the weekends, loading up the truck for family camping trips, and helping Hubs pack up his fishing rod for quick morning trips to the river, my days are spent constantly on the move. Luke doesn’t do “slow.” He does full speed ahead, usually with a pocket full of rocks and a toy truck in each hand.

So when Hubs and I officially closed the door on the “are we a one-and-done family?” debate and decided to open our hearts to a second child, I knew I needed to step up my game.

Chasing one 4-year-old through the Rockies is a workout in itself. The thought of carrying another baby, surviving pregnancy, and eventually chasing two little humans through the woods? I knew my body was going to need every ounce of strength, stamina, and resilience it could muster.

So, standing in front of that mirror, the shift happened. The vague idea of “maybe someday” evaporated, and in its place was a crystal-clear mission. My brain didn’t wait for a positive pregnancy test to step up. My mama mode hit the accelerator before a single cell was even fertilized.

Why getting healthy first became my personal obsession

Here is the absolute, unvarnished truth: this was 100% my idea. Nobody nudged me into it. My doctor didn’t give me a lecture, Hubs certainly didn’t say a word, and societal expectations can frankly take a hike.

This came entirely from that raw, deeply wired maternal instinct to protect and nourish. A mama will do literally anything for her kid’s health—and apparently, that protective instinct doesn’t bother waiting for the kid to actually exist in the physical world yet. 😅

I wanted to create the healthiest possible environment for a pregnancy. I wanted the healthiest version of me to grow this prospective little life. And for my body, at that specific moment in my life, part of that equation meant losing some weight before we officially started trying.

Not for a tiny pair of jeans. Not to fit into some imaginary post-baby ideal. Not for anyone’s approval on Instagram. Just because I knew, deep in my bones, that my body (and this future baby) would thank me for doing the heavy lifting ahead of time. I wanted my joint health to be better, my energy levels to be higher, and my metabolic health to be at its peak before taking on the massive physical toll of growing a human.

Quick, super important side note before I go any further: I am not here to tell you what you should do with your body.

Please hear me on this, friend. This was my choice, based on my history, my body, and my personal goals. Every single woman’s journey to growing her family looks different. Some mamas jump straight into trying, some need medical interventions, some focus on mental health, and some don’t change a single thing—and all of those paths are 100% valid. You do you, mama. No judgment, no unsolicited advice, no notes, ever. 💛

The part that wasn’t cute: the doctor-supervised medication

Once I made up my mind, I didn’t just wing it. As a tech-obsessed mama and chronic researcher, I went straight to my doctor so we could map out a safe, structured plan. Under her direct supervision, we decided that the best route for me was to go on a specific medication to help me hit my pre-conception weight and health goals.

And listen… I am going to be totally honest here, because honesty is the entire foundation of this blog. I’m not going to sugarcoat it or paint a picture of graceful morning wellness routines.

The side effects were a LOT.

There were days where the nausea was so intense that I sat on the kitchen floor while Luke played with his wooden trains, staring blankly at the wall and asking myself, “Why on earth did I do this to myself?”

It was a very specific, constant kind of low-grade misery. Like being trapped on a slightly swaying ferry boat in choppy waters for months on end. I’d try to make Luke his morning scrambled eggs, smelled the warm butter, and immediately have to step back and gulp cold ice water. I’d sit down to write a blog post with my trusty iced white chocolate latte, take one sip, and realize my stomach was violently rejecting the idea of espresso.

Did the medication work? Yes. It did the exact job it was supposed to do, and it helped me reach the physiological benchmark my doctor and I had set. But oh boy, nobody hands you a cute little glossy brochure at the pharmacy that says, “Congratulations! You will feel vaguely seasick for the foreseeable future while trying to act like a normal, functional mother to a very active four-year-old!” 🤢

Hubs was an absolute hero during this phase, bless him. He’d take over dinner duty without asking, wrangle Luke for bath time when I needed to lie flat on the couch, and make sure my water glass was constantly topped off. But man, those nauseous weeks tested my resolve.

There was also a very critical medical catch to this whole setup: this medication is strictly off-limits during pregnancy.

Not a “maybe drop the dose when you get a positive test” kind of thing. Not an “it’s fine in early weeks” thing. Absolutely not. You cannot be on it while pregnant—period.

Which meant this was never going to be a “take the med right up until we start trying” scenario. It had to be a multi-step process: finish the med, completely stop taking it, allow a full washout period for my body to naturally clear every trace of it from my system, and then—only then—begin trying for baby #2.

Which brings us to my absolute favorite thing in the world: the plan.

The plan (because I am a low-key control freak, hi 👋)

If you know me at all, you know I love a system. I love spreadsheets, I love smart home gadgets, I love color-coded calendars, and I love mapping things out in my iPhone notes app like I’m planning a high-stakes corporate takeover.

So, sitting on my couch with my water glass, battling the nausea waves, I pulled out my phone and built our pre-conception master timeline. It looked like this:

• Phase 1 (Now → early summer): Stay the course on the doctor-supervised medication, manage the nauseous days, hit my health target, and build up my overall physical baseline.
• Phase 2 (Early summer → mid summer): Stop the medication completely. Give my body a real, unhurried breather to reset, balance out naturally, and let the medicine fully clear my system. No rushing, no taking shortcuts.
• Phase 3 (Late summer): Officially open the door and start actually trying for baby #2. 🤍

Is it super romantic? Nope. Not even a little bit.

Is typing “schedule body reset and med washout” into your phone calendar the sexiest, most passionate approach to family planning in human history? Absolutely not. It sounds like a car maintenance schedule. Hubs and I laughed about how mechanical it felt compared to how people talk about “making a baby” in movies.

But honestly? Looking at that timeline typed out in dark mode on my phone brought me an incredible amount of peace.

Because every morning I woke up feeling a little green around the gills, every time I turned down a second slice of pizza, every time I chose the treadmill over the couch, it wasn’t about me anymore. It was me already taking care of a baby who didn’t even exist yet. It was concrete proof that my mama heart was already all in. I was already doing the work. I was already in mama mode.

Controlling the controllable in a world of total chaos

When you’re preparing to grow your family, you quickly realize how little control you actually have over the big picture.

You can’t control how fast you’ll conceive. You can’t control whether it’s a boy or a girl. You can’t control morning sickness (as I was already acutely aware), or how your pregnancy will unfold, or what kind of personality that little human is going to bring into your home. Motherhood is basically one massive, lifelong lesson in surrendering control to the wild universe.

I had no idea what this upcoming journey was going to hold. Nobody ever really does when they stand at the edge of adding another life to their family. It’s scary, exciting, overwhelming, and deeply humbling all at once.

But this early prep part? This specific phase of getting my mind and body ready? This part was mine to control. So I controlled the absolute daylights out of it.

I tracked my metrics, I listened to my doctor, I took my vitamins, I drank my water, I managed the nauseous mornings, and I held tightly to the vision of our family’s future. It gave me focus when the waiting felt long, and it gave purpose to the unpleasant side effects.

If you’re currently sitting in that quiet, weird, unglamorous prep space—whether you’re trying to get healthy, waiting out a medical timeline, saving up money, or just mentally preparing your heart for another child—I see you. It might not look like the fairy-tale version of family planning, but it is deeply meaningful work. You are already mothering. You are already all in.

More updates soon, my friend. Same messy, hopeful, slightly nauseous Colorado mama. 💛

Frequently asked questions

Did you tell your friends and family you were in this “prep phase”?

Honestly, mostly no! Beyond Hubs, my doctor, and a couple of inner-circle besties, I kept this pretty close to my chest at first. When you tell people you’re “getting ready to try,” it opens the door to a million follow-up questions every time you see them (“Any news yet?!”), which can add so much unnecessary pressure. Keeping this phase quiet gave me space to just focus on my physical health without feeling like I was on a public clock.

How did you manage the nausea while keeping up with a active 4-year-old?

Lots of grace, low-prep snacks, and leaning on Hubs! On my worst days, we simplified everything. Luke ate a lot of plain crackers, fruit, and simple sandwiches, and we spent more time doing low-energy activities like reading books on the rug or letting him race his toy trucks down the hallway instead of doing intense outdoor hikes. I also carried ginger chews in my purse everywhere we went—whether we were at the park or running errands, I always had a pocket full of anti-nausea supplies!

How did you mentally handle the wait during the medication “washout” period?

It was definitely a test of patience! When you decide you’re ready for a baby, you usually want to be pregnant yesterday. But framing that washout period as an essential part of creating a safe home for a future pregnancy really helped my mindset. Instead of viewing it as wasted time or an annoying delay, I viewed it as the ultimate body reset—a quiet month or two to just focus on feeling good, letting my stomach settle, resting, and spending sweet one-on-one time with Luke and Hubs before the real chaos of trying (and hopefully pregnancy) began.