i didn’t really like being pregnant, although my pregnancy was pretty smooth, and relatively problem free. maybe i felt a little more comfortable in my skin and didn’t mind the constant doting (who doesn’t?) but all in all, i couldn’t wait for it to be over.
and when it finally was… i thought, thank god! but wait… what have i gotten myself into? can i go back to being pregnant again?
i’ve heard women talk about being jealous of other pregnant ladies and didn’t think i would feel that way, but a few weeks ago we went to a baby shower and i got a serious case of the sads. of course we always look on things through rose coloured glasses – remember when we were cute and pregnant and full of life? and now we’re fat and floppy and miserably hormonal, (okay, not fat or floppy, but definitely hormonal.) but also with this sweet, innocent little creature that is also somehow totally evil and was brought into the world to torment you every sleepless day and sleepless night for the rest of your life.
the same girl went into early stages of labour today and i got that same pang of jealousy – there’s an unmatched excitement to that moment you realize you’re going to meet the person you’ve been carrying around for 9 (10?) months. friends and family rally around you, sharing in that buzz. adrenaline is high, the atmosphere is electric with nervousness and anticipation. what a rush!
dylan was so tiny and so perfect, i cried when i first saw her in this silly little hat the hospital put on her. i cried again when i cleaned out the hospital bag and found this silly little thing and decided to keep it. i will always remember that moment, and revel in it when she’s being a demon child…
look, i’m going to be honest, i forgot where i was going with this. let’s just blame it on the hormones and go eat the rest of the chocolate pie in the fridge.