01.19.07
Not quite yet
When I was about nine weeks pregnant, my mom and I went shopping for maternity clothes. I got some pants and some jeans, a few sweaters and some undershirts (which I never wore as Leila has apparently inherited Steves inner furnace and kept me roasty-toasty all last winter). While we were shopping, I turned to my mom in all seriousness and told her I needed her to make me a promise. I needed her to promise that if I ever showed up on her doorstep in maternity overalls that she would not let me through the door until I had changed and thrown away the overalls. She smiled, looked at me and said Okay. Apparently I am not the only one who hates maternity overalls. I kept my word, and never donned a pair while pregnant. I wore plenty of jogging pants and there were days I could not even be bothered to shower. I was extremely disheartened when I outgrew all of Steves clothes (even his biggest pair of stretched boxers) and missed so much being able to crawl into bed wearing one of his army green t-shirts because they are so worn and so soft and somehow keep me the perfect temperature. I mourned having to always wear underwear to bed, because by the end of your pregnancy, there is always this goop. . . (I will just leave it at that), and I missed my favourite jogging pants, I missed cute sexy bras (and still do) and I lamented as daily the faint little stretch marks on my belly and hips and thighs turned darker and darker as the baby kept becoming more and more overdue. I cried and thought If only she would just come today! but I kept my promise and never wore overalls.
Another promise I have made to myself is to never be one of those people who tells a parent with a child younger than mine about how much easier it was then. A family member with a 15-year-old said to us when Leila was only a month about how much easier it was when they were newborns. I glowered at him and Steve diplomatically said that he was sure this relative just forgot what it felt like not to sleep. Ever. A woman I met a few weeks ago grumbled and scolded her baby as she squirmed and crawled around the room and when I praised her for crawling so early, the mother told me I better wish Leila stayed put for a while. And I felt bad for that baby.
Each stage of parenting has its different challenges, and while it seems to me that this one is particularly easy as Leila sleeps through the night but cannot move farther than an inch or so backwards, I always feel defensive when a stranger (or family member) tells me how easy babies are and just wait until she is older. So far, the hardest stage was definitely her being a newborn, and while there are women I know with a child the same age as Leila and already trying for a second, I think about how it felt to be enormous and uncomfortable all of the time, and I think about how exhausting it was those first six weeks, and I relish in the fact that I am not pregnant anymore. I can see my toes and I can sleep on my back and I can go a whole night without heartburn and I am almost back into my pre-pregnancy pants. I feel good and happy and healthy and sometimes even sexy and I am just not ready for number two quite yet.
wunderwuman at 8:53 a.m.