Nothing Better
Being Pregnant and Loving It
I learned a long time ago that I am basically a cliché. All the ways I imagine myself to be unique and one of a kind are the exact ways I’m just like everyone else. No original thought here.
This week I saw someone post on Facebook about having her first baby and how everyone had told her how much she would miss being pregnant and she could not imagine that would be true. She was so tired and ready to not be pregnant any more. Her baby is a few weeks old now. Of course, she misses it. And, of course, there are exceptions to the rule. There are always exceptions to the rule. But, the rule is that we all miss being pregnant.
I have no way of knowing, but it feels like this is especially true for us fat girls. No one judges you when you are pregnant. They say you are “glowing” and you look so healthy and happy. That is one of the things I miss.
My pregnancies were not easy. I had “morning sickness” all day long and it lasted the entire time I was pregnant, not just that first trimester. I live in the south and both of my children were born near the end of summer. If you have never been 8 months pregnant during August in the deep south, then you have never considered stripping down to your underwear and laying across the produce in the Kroger so that the mister would spray cool water on you. I was enormous and hot and tired and nauseous. I had never been happier.
This year, the oldest of our two wanted to spend his birthday at the movies “with the guys.” I am extremely happy about that. Truly, I think it is absolutely appropriate. The younger still wanted to have family dinner on their birthday, so we went out to get some Mexican food — their choice. He drove us to and from the restaurant to continue practicing before the scheduled test for a Driver’s License in a couple of weeks. When we got home, he went to his room to play video games and watch a movie. They answered, “No, but thanks for the offer,” when I asked,
“Do you want all of us to snuggle up in my bed and watch a movie together?”
I want them to grow independent. I truly do. It is good and right and a sign that we have parented appropriately. But, Lordy, I miss having that baby in my belly tossing and turning, kicking and hiccuping so that I felt every move they made.
Hubby saw how hard it was being pregnant. I was exhausted. And, I was certain to remind him what that one book had taught me,
“I am growing a human being which is the equivalent of climbing a mountain every single day.”
He rubbed my feet every night!
So, when I told him how much I missed being pregnant, he couldn’t understand it. He still can’t understand it. He only saw how hard it was from the outside. I will never be so close to my children again.
I know that is creepy. Some of you may not be as creepy as I am. But, I know a lot of you are! I know this because I am a cliché, so much like most other mothers that it has become almost meaningless.
My mother asked me on the phone tonight, “Well, how does it feel knowing your baby is sixteen years old?”
“Not so great,” I replied.
She laughed. That was the point of the response. And, it isn’t completely true either. It is hard to believe. It does feel weird. It isn’t all bad. I may have been able to feel every hiccup when I was pregnant, but the conversation wasn’t near as interesting.
