I think I’m suffering from a complicated bout of prenatal anxiety. If that’s not an official medical term, it totally should be. I, for one, can attest to the fact that it’s real and that it’s utterly horrible. So what is the root of all this emotional turmoil I find myself in? Surprisingly, it’s not the blissfully unaware baby that’s (hopefully) enjoying his/her time in my way-too-small uterus. What’s really stressing me out is the aforementioned baby’s older sister. My precious first child.
I’m sure every first time mother will agree with me when I say there is nothing as wonderful as holding your newborn baby in your arms for the very first time. You realize right away that you never really knew what love was until that very moment. Ah, but therein lies the problem. How do you recreate such an once-in-a-lifetime experience? My biggest worry is that I won’t fall in love with this baby the same way I did with my first. This dark, awful thought is keeping me up at night.
I feel horrible saying it but I just don’t have the same excitement with this pregnancy that I did with my first. I was meticulous about taking growing bump pictures back then. This time around, I think I have maybe one. Maybe, but honestly I’m not even sure I have the one. And all that shopping that started right when I found out with my first pregnancy? Nope, nothing—not even a single teddy bear. No poring for hours over nursery pictures and design ideas. No mindlessly searching for the perfect baby name. I feel terrible about it but I really just can’t be bothered. I’m too busy being in love with my first born.
I’ve spoken to a few other mommies out there and they assure me that I have nothing to worry about. Yeah, right. Who would actually tell me the truth?! Who is really going to admit to having a favourite child? I don’t buy it. Maybe they’re just lying to me and can’t quite possibly tell me the truth. It’s not exactly the ‘ideal mommy’ sort of stuff and not the kind of thing you’d want to admit to. That’s why I have to worry about it now—before I am the mother of two children and can no longer discuss such concerns without being judged. Right now, I can get away with voicing these thoughts but once baby comes, I will undoubtedly have to zip it.
My daughter is my life right now. I can’t imagine having enough room in my heart for another baby. It’s like a pie chart and this is the chart right now:
You might notice that currently my daughter has a bit more of my heart than my husband. That’s me just being perfectly frank.
So now the question is, how can I carve out another piece when all the pieces are spoken for? Will this mean less love for each of the other parts? Will the pie get bigger to accommodate another piece?
Sadly, I have a feeling the new pie chart might start to look something like this:
Poor husband. Looks like we’re headed towards having our own bedrooms soon.
A number of things fall to pieces when you’re pregnant. They don’t mention it in the pregnancy books but it’s going to happen to all of us sooner or later. In fact, it’s already started happening to me. I was bothered and horrified with my first pregnancy but this time around, I knew better. I was mentally prepared and I’m about to give you the lowdown. You can and should prepare yourself as well. You won’t like to read what I’m about to say but trust me, it’s for your own good.
Your boobs are going to start looking more like they belong on a National Geographic cover than in a Playboy spread - Remember those cute perky cups? Yeah, consider them gone. In their place will be large, swollen mammoths with the ugliest nipples you’ve ever laid eyes on. It’s inevitable so try not to shed tears when you look in the mirror. They will eventually return to normal—sorta.
Your thighs will start to rub together - I’ve always been very conscientious of my thighs and when I was pregnant with my first child, I was mortified when they started to touch. Like WTF. The baby was in my belly so why were my thighs expanding like a helium balloon?! This pregnancy though, I’ve prepared myself emotionally. Go ahead and touch, you evil things. Watch the punishment you take after this is all over—you’ll be sorry you ever fell apart on me.
You will lose your ability to sleep peacefully - I find it ironic that everyone tells you to rest up and get lots of sleep while you still can. What they forget to mention is that they actually meant before you got pregnant. That might have been useful information, people. Getting up to go the bathroom, leg cramps, an ungainly belly that is constantly in your way, and a baby kicking your insides to shit all contribute to this new no-sleeping thing. Another one of the joys of pregnancy.
You will pee when you sneeze - I simultaneously laughed and cringed when other women told me this one. I was all, “Yeah right, you crazy and disgusting beasts. I’m doing my Kegels so screw you.” Ummm, so the Kegels don’t seem to be working. I was lucky with my first pregnancy but this time around, it’s payback for being a judgmental cow. All I can say is that I'm sorry and the jokes on me.
You will no longer be able to see or reach below your belly - This one sounds obvious but trust me, no one realizes it until it actually happens (or was that just me?!). Do you know how hard it is to put on socks and shoes when you can`t reach your feet?! And forget about painting your nails. Oh, and that grooming that you need to do for your lady parts? Good luck with that one. It'll be at the salon for you.
There you go. That's my list of utterly embarrassing and mortifying and undignified injustices that you will be dealing with. I don't like it and you won't like it but nothing can be done about it so you might as well just accept it. At least you get a cute baby at the end of it all. FYI, that`s just me trying to find the silver lining in a bad situation. Good luck mommas, we're all gonna need it.
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I just ended my three-week spa getaway. When I say spa getaway, I really mean visit to my parents' house. Seriously though, nothing is better than going back home to get fawned over and pampered like a child. It’s better than any resort I’ve ever been to—after all, these people that spawned me know my likes and dislikes like no one else.
Let me explain why I love going back home to visit so much more than any visit to the spa:
I get to sleep in. Toddlers don’t sleep in and when I’m at my own place, I almost always wake up early. That is in direct contrast to when I’m at my parents. These are grandparents that feel like they rarely get to see their granddaughter and find her to be a delightful bundle of joy. It’s clear they may be going prematurely senile but that doesn’t stop me from taking advantage of it. If they want to wake up early with her and sneak in some alone time while I sleep, I’m all for it. After all, I’m really doing it for them.
Breakfast, lunch, dinner, and snacks are all cooked for me and provided free of charge. Not to mention, my mother always makes sure to cook my favourite foods while I’m at home. I’m not one of those people who love to cook and concoct creative recipes in the kitchen. That’s not quite me. I cook simply because I have to and when I don’t have to, I consider that my very own version of heaven.
I get appointed my very own personal assistant. He likes to think of himself as my younger brother but we all know what younger brothers are really meant for. To do the things you don’t want to do yourself. Picking up diapers for my daughter when I run out, grabbing me a Starbucks latte, maybe even driving me to my hair appointment. This applies even when you’re in your thirties and he’s in his twenties. Don’t blame me, blame the sibling hierarchy rules.
I don’t have to do any cleaning. This one takes the cake. I’m the mother of a toddler and thus, I’m constantly cleaning at my own house. All the damn time. My mother clearly realizes this and feels for my tired pregnant self. Accordingly, she didn’t let me clean while I was at her house. Incredibly lucky I know but she obviously feels I deserve it, so I must be doing something right.
I make money when I go home. Most people have to shell out a lot of money when they go to the spa but not I. When I go to this particular spa, I actually make money and lots of it. I visit family and never leave empty-handed. Apparently it’s bad luck to let a daughter/niece/granddaughter/etc. leave without some cash. Who am I to buck tradition? It’s unthinkable.
What’s not to love about going to visit my parents? In fact, next time you’re feeling overworked and tired and just too pregnant to function anymore I suggest you do what I do. Go home and get spoiled. Maybe take me with you, if you would be so kind and your parents wouldn’t mind.
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