After being back to work about two weeks, I bumped into someone at the office who was in my class in elementary school. She is pretty high up in the company and recently took on a new job to basically be the “right hand” of the CEO. She is fit, looks fabulous, lives in the city with her husband. Her job takes her jet-setting on a private plane all over the world. She has told me that she didn’t want to have kids because of her career, which I guess has paid off for her because I know she must be pulling down a healthy salary with bonuses.
When I saw her, I immediately felt self-conscious about my post-partum body. My belly still warranted a maternity dress, my hair was wavy with fly-aways because I haven't had time to use a flat-iron since Pearl was born. My make-up tried to cover the fact that I had been up twice that night for an hour each time, but I knew I still looked tired. I had my big, black bag over my shoulder that houses my breast pump and was on my way to the Nursing Mother’s Room.
In her, I saw a road I could have chosen. In my 20s I envisioned myself being that fit and rich, to have the energy and time to eat well. I felt like she looked at me with a shudder, and I could almost hear her thoughts saying, “Wow, you’re not lookin’ good.” I say this because it’s what I would have thought of me back then.
I went to my little room to pump milk for my little babe and held back tears that I had let myself go.
A few days later, during a hot weekend. I wore an outfit that may not have been the best choice. It showed my belly, quite a bit. Brian was in Mary’s room with the girls, holding Pearl on his lap in the rocking chair while Mary picked out some books to read. I walked in the room shaking my belly in an exaggerated way and making the sound effects, “Wubba, wubba, wubba”.
Brian smiled at me and responded in a little voice as if it were Pearl talking, “Haha, I gave you that belly - but aren’t I cute!?”
My heart beamed and I felt a fog of negativity lift from my shoulders.
Yes, my little darling, you and your sister are cuter, sweeter and more precious than any belly-gut, out-of-control hair, and dark-eye circles. I should take pride in these trophies, like the red badge of courage I exhibit everyday as reminders that I am a mom. A good mom. I may not be the most fit, and I could use some more sleep, but realized then that I love my little family, my little life way more.
Talk about a GUT CHECK. I really thought what my belly gut meant. That I had made two of the coolest people I know on the plant. And I love them so much I could eat them up.
Then the table completely turned and I feel sorry for this elementary school friend. She will never experience little kicks inside her, a baby’s smile while nursing, an exhaustive night worrying about a toddler’s fever, or the joy of a little hug with the words, “I love you, Mommy”. The price to pay is small compared to the joy and full life my girls bring me.
When I saw her, I immediately felt self-conscious about my post-partum body. My belly still warranted a maternity dress, my hair was wavy with fly-aways because I haven't had time to use a flat-iron since Pearl was born. My make-up tried to cover the fact that I had been up twice that night for an hour each time, but I knew I still looked tired. I had my big, black bag over my shoulder that houses my breast pump and was on my way to the Nursing Mother’s Room.
In her, I saw a road I could have chosen. In my 20s I envisioned myself being that fit and rich, to have the energy and time to eat well. I felt like she looked at me with a shudder, and I could almost hear her thoughts saying, “Wow, you’re not lookin’ good.” I say this because it’s what I would have thought of me back then.
I went to my little room to pump milk for my little babe and held back tears that I had let myself go.
A few days later, during a hot weekend. I wore an outfit that may not have been the best choice. It showed my belly, quite a bit. Brian was in Mary’s room with the girls, holding Pearl on his lap in the rocking chair while Mary picked out some books to read. I walked in the room shaking my belly in an exaggerated way and making the sound effects, “Wubba, wubba, wubba”.
Brian smiled at me and responded in a little voice as if it were Pearl talking, “Haha, I gave you that belly - but aren’t I cute!?”
My heart beamed and I felt a fog of negativity lift from my shoulders.
Yes, my little darling, you and your sister are cuter, sweeter and more precious than any belly-gut, out-of-control hair, and dark-eye circles. I should take pride in these trophies, like the red badge of courage I exhibit everyday as reminders that I am a mom. A good mom. I may not be the most fit, and I could use some more sleep, but realized then that I love my little family, my little life way more.
Talk about a GUT CHECK. I really thought what my belly gut meant. That I had made two of the coolest people I know on the plant. And I love them so much I could eat them up.
Then the table completely turned and I feel sorry for this elementary school friend. She will never experience little kicks inside her, a baby’s smile while nursing, an exhaustive night worrying about a toddler’s fever, or the joy of a little hug with the words, “I love you, Mommy”. The price to pay is small compared to the joy and full life my girls bring me.
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| My littlest darling - 3 weeks old |