Tuesday, March 5, 2013


Every time I see a new mother pushing her baby in a stroller or carrying the bubs on her person, I have two simultaneous reactions: joy/tenderness, and envy and resentment. And then I usually need to scratch my belly because I do a lot of that now because I've developed itchy skin. Glorious.

I mean, seriously, I just want my baby. Also, I want to know what the damage will be to my body so I can get to work on both accepting it and willing it back into some sort of decent shape. I have particular concerns about my rib cage, as I do not wish myself to be a barrel. Also, my hips have spread and have taken my ass along for the ride, effectively flattening it. My butt is not gone, but it's not as round and I'm interested in some sort of hip shrink wear, as post-birth the body is more malleable and may be my only crack at re-assing myself.

I've started to get small anxieties about being a mother. I know I'm up for it, but it's the finality of the decision that occasionally stuns me. This is permanent. Nothing else in life will ever be as permanent of a choice as this is. You can drop out of school, change jobs, sell a house, get divorced and so on. Having a kid is forever.

It's a weird place in your head. There's still the ME talking loud and clear. How will I get to my hair appointments and still meet my baby's needs/afford hair appointments? What about my social life? What will I look like? But then aside from all that there's the intensity you feel inside. You know you're going to adore your baby and you want to meet him or her now, and know if baby's a him or her. I want to breastfeed, and I don't want to be chained to breastfeeding and I want breastfeeding to go well, and I want my boobs to go back to normal and I don't want to pay for formula and I think pumping will be a pain in the ass. Ah, ambivalence.

My God... On one hand I wish I had other things to write about right now. But really? Try growing a new person inside your body and have the physical symptoms run your life for nine months. After awhile, it's just sort of what your life is about for a good long stint. My conversation hasn't been reduced to only baby talk, at least. But I think my blogging has now become an outlet for this side of my life. I know no other pregnant women. In a weird little prenatal way, this is all I've got.


Post a Comment

Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...