When I was pregnant I wasn’t one of those women who loooooved everything about it. In fact, I complained a lot…about nothing. I really can’t pinpoint what I didn’t like about pregnancy but I think it has a lot to do with the fact that I can be a little impatient. Okay, a lot. I didn’t find out my babies’ gender during either of my pregnancies and I really wanted to know. My husband on the other hand, was adamant about not wanting to know so,
he we chose not to find out.* So basically, I complained about everything because nine months was a long time. Now that I’m not pregnant and both of my little darlings sleep through the night, I really miss it. Mainly:
- The random smile strangers everywhere flash at you. Small talk in our condo elevator was never a problem.
- The waddle. I LOVED extenuating my gait and taking my sweet time walking anywhere. My husband was even convinced I was pushing out my stomach in order to look more pregnant. Sometimes I was.
- Random baby kicks. There’s nothing like feeling your baby flutter for the first time or, as your pregnancy progresses, the somersaults and flips he does. It’s constant reassurance that he’s in there and you’re taking great care of him.
- Eating. I understand being pregnant doesn’t mean you can “eat for two”, but it does mean instead of the “petit steak”, you can opt for the full eight ounces – and I did. With sides.
- Accessorizing, or lack there of I should say. No accessory can top that of a pregnant belly. Getting dressed to go anywhere consisted of throwing on a grey cotton dress. I remember one time when I was jealously jokingly talking about all the cool things my sister (who doesn’t have children yet) got to buy with her paychecks. My friend looked at me and said, “No purse can come close to that belly.” It’s true.
As I write this I’m realizing it’s hard to recall what I didn’t like about it and for now, I want to keep it that way. Although, one thing I’ll never forget? That time I was woken up by a tornado alarm at 1am and had to evacuate our 16th floor condo. That’s 32 flights of stairs I had to rush down at six months preggos. More on that later.
*In no way did my husband forbid me from finding out the gender of our babies. It was just one of those “I’ll let him think I’m conceding and hold on to it for later” moments.
This is me pregnant with Jack at my friend’s bridal shower. Shout out to my sister who captured this candid moment.