I was looking back on old photos of Jones as a baby and reading some old posts from that time. And can I say how glad I am that I am not having another ‘first baby’???! There is nothing like the experience of being a new mom, but I am quite okay to leave that experience in the past. It was hard. And I cried. A lot. Not that I won’t cry this time, too, but I am really enjoying the relative peace of having done this at least once. I don’t freak out about every little pregnancy ache and pain. I don’t feel the kicks in my tummy and think, “Holy crap! That’s really a living thing in there!” I don’t see my approaching due date and wonder at all the freedoms I’ll lose and how much my life will change. I’m a far too serious person, I think, to survive another ‘first baby.’ Good thing its not within the realm of possibility. I just might pull out my hair.
Instead.. I’m really enjoying my belly getting bigger and rounder. (And enjoying the hope that my belly will look like this a few more times at least! *wink wink*) I don’t mind my stretch marks as much. I’m prouder of what my body can accomplish and less shy of the form it’s taking. I’m not all-consumed with the thought of labor and delivery, wondering if I’ll even survive. (Oh, the drama!) I am SO excited to meet the little dude. I’m eager to see what he looks like, to hold a newborn again, to watch his personality grow. I can’t wait to see how our life will change with his entrance into the world! I know it will be challenging, but it will be so good for me. For his daddy. Perhaps especially for Jones. I feel content to just wait for him to come.
With Jones, I was so freaked out, I just wanted to get it over with. Thank the Lord for growth. And change. And a little bit of needed perspective.
Pre-Jones, I just was not the motherly sort. I wasn’t dying to have babies when I got married, though I knew I wanted them someday. I wasn’t overcome with romance when I saw my firstborn’s crinkled little face. In fact, all I could think was, “It’s done.. I did it.. I want to sleep.. Who’s child is that?” I remember totally flipping out over the decision of whether or not to give him a pacifier. “B-b-but the breastfeeding brochure says..” Needless to say, it took the two of us quite a while to get used to each other and find our groove. Jones was very forgiving of my un-motherly-ness and my constant worrying during the first months (first year, perhaps?) of his life. He patiently waited for me to grow into the role and seems happy with where we’ve landed. I’m happy, too. Happier than I’ve ever been, in fact. It makes me want to have lots of babies.
Speaking of such, my little man is due from his nap. Please enjoy this other post on the freedoms of baby two here — at Hausfrau, by Darby.