However, I am going to have a little tiny creature who is going to look to me for everything: her nourishment, her safety, her energy. When I truly reflect on the kind of mother I want to be to my daughter (oh my gosh, I’m going to have a daughter…), I realize that there is no better time to focus on self-improvement – on the woman that I present to the world every day.
A little life update. This time of year is always high-stress for me, but 2017 certainly had the potential to take the cake as the most stressful late-fall-early-winter-holiday season ever. We sold our house, bought a new one, and moved an hour away. We didn’t have a moving day, we had a moving month. I am 37 weeks pregnant. Parts of the house are still in boxes. My Christmas shopping is not done and none of the gifts are wrapped. My hospital bag is not packed. The nursery is not completely done.
Typing all of this out, it sounds like a complete nightmare that would seriously spike my anxiety, but I’ve learned something really important over the last couple of months. Something cliched and simple, but oh so true: all that matters is that my little family is together.
I hate putting lights on the Christmas tree. When done properly, this task can take hours and it’s one of those things that drives me nuts if it’s not done exactly the way I like it. I blame my parents for this. My mom was (and is) sort of crazy about her Christmas tree. There was a second, smaller tree in the den that my brother and I got to decorate while she created her masterpiece in the living room – and I 100% understand her motivation for that now. Just ask my husband if I let him help with decorating…!
So let’s get a few things straight before we even get started: After this whole pregnancy thing blows over (hahahaha), will my body be the exactly same as it was before? No. Will my body still be awesome? Yes.
I’ve actually been quite lucky throughout this pregnancy – I haven’t received a lot of unwanted comments about my body from strangers. Cashiers or waiters have made lighthearted comments but everything has been in good taste and nothing has offended me. Interestingly enough, it’s mostly been people close to me (and surprise surprise: men) who have made the comments that have bothered me throughout this experience. Someone told me that my boobs will never be the same (well, duh). Several people have laughed at my desire to have as natural of a child birth as possible (I got pretty snappy in response to that one, considering it was two humans with penises making the comments). But the worst thing I’ve heard, even though I’d like to believe it was said in a joking manner:
Your body will be RUINED after this.
This post is sponsored by the NFL Fan Style Lifestyle Council. Affiliate links.
I’ve written before about how I have a terrible memory when it comes to things that happened before my dad passed away in 2006 – and quite honestly, I think the timeline really extends well into my adulthood. I don’t know if it’s a defense mechanism or a mental health issue or just how I am, but honestly, the older I get the more I realize that I recall very few details about my life unless there is a picture or a journal entry associated with it.
What I am capable of remember is feelings associated with certain things. That’s why the holidays can be so wonderful and so emotionally difficult at the same time – all of the lights and sounds and smells bring back lots of “feeling-memories” that I guess I just don’t deal with most of the time. Football season does the same thing. Whether it’s the sounds of the marching band on a Friday night at a high school game or the broadcasters telling the story of an NFL game on Sunday, there are warm and cozy feeling-memories associated.