I was looking through my calendar a few nights ago only to discover that our daughter's second birthday is in two weeks. It's notable because when my son turned two, my husband and I were way ahead of the game in planning his birthday than we are in planning hers. We had already sent invitations via snail mail and reserved a picnic area for a very large party that included all of his two-year old buddies and their parents. But for our daughter, we have become so behind that we skipped the paper invites and sent out an Evite, and instead of inviting ten of our daughter's closest friends, we have decided to do a small family event in our backyard. Once again, we are reminded that our daughter is a card-carrying member of the Second Child Syndrome (SCS) club.

From the time I learned I was pregnant with my son who is also my firstborn, I was very meticulous and acutely aware of every developmental stage. I pored over the sonogram pictures, I took my prenatal vitamins religiously, I steered clear of caffeine and soft cheeses, and I would rub my belly every time he moved. And after he was born, I was ever so watchful for the first smile, the first laugh and every other "first" labeled as a developmental milestone. Then, with the second pregnancy, my husband and I joked from the beginning that this kid was going to be short-changed. Running after my toddler son, I was lucky if I remembered to take the prenatal vitamins, I drank caffeinated beverages at least three or four times a week, and I hardly had time to notice the baby moving, much less rub my belly every time she did. Even in the delivery room the second time around, all that special Lamaze breathing and the soothing Mozart music fell completely by the wayside. Instead, I sat comfortably numb with an epidural, shamelessly watching American Idol and chatting with the nurses about our favorite contestants.

After our daughter's birth, things were exactly as my husband and I suspected - no time to hold our baby girl for hours on end; no time to take pictures and video footage of every developmental milestone; and no time to pick her up every time she cried. Two years later, my daughter is still afflicted with SCS. It's not that she's neglected by any means, but it's the little details that label her the second child. From the hand-me-down, stained with spit-up baby gear she inherited to the grimy, sticker-covered toys she gets to play with only when her brother has decided she's allowed to touch them. Not to mention how she was gypped of things that my son received when he was an infant- a nap in a quiet house; a car ride home with no screaming sibling; and constant one on one time with the parents, to name a few.

I am the second child in my family, so none of this is really new. If you're a consecutive sibling, you too probably understand what it's like to pore through family photo albums to find several hundred photos of your older sibling - many taken in real time - alongside photos of every one of your relatives holding this precious first-born. But when you look for pictures of yourself, they're not in photo albums, but instead scattered in an old shoebox among photos from one of your parent's high school proms and random holiday photos of people no one in your family remembers -- "Hey, isn't that the kid who used to mow our lawn?".

As parents we can't blame ourselves for this whole birth order thing. Now that I'm a mother, I finally understand how nearly impossible it is to try to emulate for the second what I did for the first. In truth, however, I think SCS membership carries more advantages than disadvantages because while there is nothing quite as miraculous and new as the first child, there is nothing more relieving than knowing what to expect with the second. As parents, we are (for the most part) more relaxed, prepared and ready for all of the challenges a second child brings because we've had the first one with which to make all of the mistakes. And if I had to wager which of my children would write a book titled "I'm a Neurotic Mess Because My Mother Wouldn't Let Me Drink Soda - and Other Stories of Injustice", all bets would be on my firstborn.

At the end of the day, we remembered our daughter's birthday before it arrived and while she won't have a party to end all parties, she will spend the day with those she loves the most, including her brother - the one who made her SCS membership possible and the person whom she adores more than anyone. Maybe that's the beauty of being the second-born - to have this older sibling to lead the way and provide a lifelong friendship. I think my son sums it up well when, as I'm carrying my tired daughter to her room for a nap, he pleads desperately, "No, don't put her down for a nap because I'm gonna be lonely! I love her!" And all I can think is, "I know what you mean, buddy. I know what you mean."