Dear Pre-Mommy Me…

There’s a fun blogsite called Dear Teen Me, where authors write letters to their teen selves. Perhaps there is another site for people writing to themselves before they were parents, but I haven’t come across one yet.

Guess we’ll just have to fill that niche, now, won’t we?


Letter to my Pre-Baby Self

Dear Pre-Mommy Me,

Being a parent is hard.

Wait. Stop. Read that first sentence again, because I don’t think you’re actually getting it. Being a parent is HARD.

You still don’t get it. Really, there’s no way you can. Maybe if you did a ride-along with another new mom, sleeping in her bed (or, rather, NOT sleeping), following her into the bathroom for the showers she can’t take in peace, experiencing the excruciating pain that is a poorly-latched breastfeeding session, and then the crazy-making times of being so super-in-love with this baby and also having to remember to keep your cool and NOT SHAKE THE BABY who will NOT stop crying and now you can’t stop crying and why couldn’t you just have been happy with your husband and a cat? Maybe then, you might get it.

You’ll want to scream shut up at every person who tells you, nodding wisely and nostalgically, that “it goes by so fast,” because it doesn’t feel that way when it’s actually going by.

And free time? You’re gonna have to fight for it. Nobody’s going to wave the magic Free Time Wand and hand it to you. Don’t forget to ask. Don’t forget to tell people what you need (because twelve months is an awfully long time to take to learn that lesson).

You will come to depend on your family and friends in ways that are thoroughly humbling and teach you the meanings of grace and compassion. Remember to thank them often [Dear Me-of-the-right now: thank those folks!].

Babies aren’t for everyone, but babe, once you have one, you’ll know there’s no going back, and even if you could, you wouldn’t.

With love, pity, and a surplus of picture books,

In-love-with-my-beautiful-family Me

PS: Your body will never look the same. Do us all a favor and get over it.



Annnnnd…because I’m going to have my hands full with a new baby in a few weeks, I’d like to invite other parents and aunties and uncles and friends who would like to share their own letters to themselves before their lives were taken over by kidlets. Your letters can help me out while I’m busy on the babywagon. If you’re interested, send me an email or use the contact page above.

The JOYS of Pregnancy

I’m tired of whining. Even when (I think) I’m being funny, I’m still complaining.

Well not today! Today I am going to share with you the WONDROUS WONDERS OF WONDER that are being pregnant. And I will conveniently leave out any complaining.

Joyous Wonder #1: Maternity Jeans

I’m a sweats/yoga pants girl at heart. I call my yoga pants part of my “uniform” for my “job” of writing during the first part of the day and taking care of Z during the second, rather louder, part of the day (and night). Sometimes I put my pajamas back on immediately after taking my shower. Yes, I confess all these things with absolutely NO SHAME. However, maternity jeans are the one thing other than sweats that I could wear around the house. I just told a friend that I may wear my maternity jeans in perpetuity even after the baby is born. For those of you who don’t know, maternity jeans look something like this:

I thought a half-naked blue, one-eyed alien woman would be preferable to a half-naked human woman. Let's see what kind of weird search hits I get on my blog this week.

Joyous Wonder #2: The Pregnancy Card

This is really just the special privileges a pregnant woman can get from her husband. Homes will go out at 9 p.m. to get food for me, or he’ll make special meals at my request (still waiting on those enchiladas, though…no wait, I had those. Well, I want them again. Must put in a request). Different husbands/partners may give the pregnant woman in their life different privileges with the pregnancy card. My privileges mostly amount to food and not lifting heavy things. I might get out of doing the dishes soon because my stomach’s getting too big for me to reach the faucet.

Joyous Wonder #3: Quickening

No jokes here. I freaking love feeling the baby move. And because I know this will be my last baby, I’m trying to memorize the feeling. Maverick’s more of a kicker/puncher than Z was. I mean, Z moved a bunch, but her moves were mostly stretches, like an alien foot arching across my stomach. Maverick’s, like, dancing in there or something. Anyway, it’s crazy cool, and I’ll miss it.

Joyous Wonder #4: No Dieting Allowed

I know things are different for women diagnosed with gestational diabetes. Thankfully, that’s not me (knock on wood. KNOCK ON WOOD!! I mean it. Everyone. RIGHT NOW). So if I want to have a teeny tiny salad for dinner, followed by a gigantic slice of chocolate cake for dessert, well. It’s not like I’m tracking Weight Watchers points or actually paying any attention to weight gain whatsoever. Until I start seeing my cheeks puff out (and I check, I admit, almost daily), I’m going to eat what I like. What’s amazing is it’s mostly salads that I want, not cake. (But yeah, if the cake’s there, I’ll eat that, too.)

So there you have it, The Joyous Wonders of Pregnancy. See, there are good things to it! And like I said with the fetal movement, I know it won’t last forever, and this is my last chance to enjoy it, so enjoy it I shall.

But I still feel like a Whoofle chewed up my pelvis and gave it back to me all mangled and crooked. Just sayin’.