It’s raining babies up here in Seattle. There have been 7 babies born in our community group in just 22 months. Plus we’ve got two more (in the same uterus, I might add) on the way! That’s a lot of pregnant bellies, baby-wearing, Boppys, and Bumbos. It’s been so much fun to celebrate with everyone as they start their families. Jason and I have found it incredibly joyful to walk alongside so many of our friends in this new season of their lives and ohmygoodness, all the squishy babies!
Personally, I noticed two distinct feelings emerge as I observed all the expanding waistlines and swollen ankles…
1. Awww, I kind of wish I was pregnant right now! I wish I had been pregnant with all of my nearest and dearest friends. It was with a slightly painful feeling of wistfulness that I snapped pictures of four of my girlfriends in front of our house on Easter Sunday last Spring. You know the one. Where they all stand in profile in order of due dates. So fun! When I was pregnant, there was nobody to stand in line with me. It was just me. Would have been grand to experience such a profound time of life with a few friends. At one point last Spring, Jason and I were both feeling swept up in the excitement of it all and we thought about having one more. But then we thought maybe we should get a dog instead. And ultimately, that we didn’t even feel like getting a dog because even THAT sounded too hard. And I’ve been so fortunate to have found a group of women to meet with every week who have kids and were pregnant at the same time (I just didn’t know them then) who have been a wonderful support to me and very dear friends.
2. Thank the sweet stars I’m not pregnant again! While I experienced pangs of sadness on occasion, this second feeling was definitely the dominant one. Obviously. Or else this might have been a post with two pink lines and ultrasound pictures. I actually had a pretty rough go when I was pregnant. I felt dreadful my first trimester. Like death. Or worse. I don’t know. I’m exaggerating. But it was rough. Second trimester was blissful, I’ll admit, but by the third, I moved back toward miserable with alarming speed, especially the second go ’round. And then there is the sleeping situation. Or lack of sleeping. Anyhow, I can’t help but feel like I’ve paid my dues and I’m much happier to be the helpful friend who’s been there and lived to tell.
So anyhow, somewhere among all the new nurseries and baby paraphernalia, I realized that our boys were actually outgrowing their bedroom. That we had been holding on to the nursery and baby stuff but they were ready for a change, for a space more suitable to their needs and interests now that they are both “big boys.” Continue reading