I remember those days as if they were a… well, something between a dream and a nightmare. The girl I overheard and her husband were meeting with a realtor to look at homes in our neighborhood. It was very cute… that freshness of starting out and having such big changes ahead of them.
What a joy pregnancy is, huh? I mean, I know for some people it is… for example the girl in my labor class who didn’t want to stop being so connected to her ‘little buddy’. But for most of us I think it is more like fighting through a wind and rain and ice storm but knowing there is hot chocolate on the other end. Of course the hot chocolate turns out to be so hot it scalds out mouths… but while we are in the midst of the freezing storm that is not what we are thinking about. All we can hold onto is the thought that at some point we will, again, be warm.
Mine wasn’t the worst pregnancy ever. I can acknowledge, even bow down to, the poor women who carry twins… or are sick the entire time…or end up in preterm labor and struggle to hold onto the baby. These, obviously, are the
most difficult situations. But I, like I think most women, had the normal amount of angst; all-day sickness (who ever thought to call is morning, anyway?), aching hips and back, sleepless nights, swollen feet and hands… and they wonder why we want birth control? It is an exercise in acceptance and mindfulness; a chance to practice the very skills that we will need as moms!
And the thing is… it does end, and for the most part we forget the really awful parts and remember the way the baby kicked, or the first time we find out the gender or hear their little heart beating on the ultrasound, or find the perfect nursery set and watch our husband set up the crib knowing this is a right of passage along the lines of a tribal first hunt.
We forget, that is, until we get the stomach flu and think, oh yeah… I remember why I am not going there again; or until we overhear a young girl, waddling through Starbucks, drinking her green tea while longing for coffee, and hoping she doesn’t pee in the back seat of her realtor’s car.