This time last year, I was about twenty weeks pregnant.
Twenty weeks pregnant and already looking like I was about to pop. Twenty weeks pregnant and already not sleeping. Twenty weeks pregnant and already suffering from near constant back pain.
Twenty weeks pregnant and already ready to be done with the whole thing.
But today? Today I’m kind of missing being pregnant.
I know. That’s insane, right?
It’s just that the whole pregnancy thing was so exciting. Everything was new. Everything was wondrous. The little girl, she was just starting to make her presence known. In fact, I had just found out she was a little girl.
We were busy picking out names. Trying to decide how to decorate her bedroom. I was eating all the ice cream I wanted, and not feeling even a tiny bit guilty for not working out.
Everywhere I went, people smiled at me. They told me I looked cute (even when I hadn’t washed my hair, brushed my teeth or put on a lick of makeup). They squealed, and giggled, and oohed and ahhed.
Everything I did, I thought to myself, “this will be the last time I…go Christmas shopping before I’m a mom. Stuff my face with turkey before I’m a mom. Celebrate the New Year before I’m a mom.”
See what I mean? Everything was just a little…more.
Now, of course, I’m a mom. A mom who’s still carrying an extra twenty pounds, is always tired and can never seem to get anywhere close to the bottom of her To Do list.
I’m not a star anymore. I’m not exciting anymore. I’m just…me.
And life? Has gone back to being just life.
Don’t get me wrong. I love me my Tori, and I thank my lucky stars that I’ve been blessed with her presence in my life.
But sometimes? I miss being pregnant.