I particularly remember how small I felt in this big, bad world every time I received that judgmental stare. It happened often. In turn, it made me recount all the times I had been too quick to judge someone else. I kept a running tally in my mind. At this point in my life I could have done without the added guilt. It was literally eating me alive.
I often raided my dad’s closet to find those oversized white dress shirts to fit around my swelling belly. Somehow, I fooled myself in to thinking that it masked my plumpness. I believe I may have even referred to myself as “slender” even though it had been weeks since I’d seen my own feet…the things we tell ourselves. I adamantly refused to buy maternity clothes. The thought of Mimi Maternity or any other fun, trendy clothing store for expectant mothers simply agitated my morning sickness to an unbearable degree. I cringed at the thought of soccer moms with perfect baby bellies scoping out my ring finger, giving me the disapproving shake of their head, and driving away in their Lexus. I was not worthy of these stores. I forced myself in to believing I was undeserving of anything that made me feel good. It was guilt or anger; take your pick. In my eyes, I was the epitome of shame. Suffocating, bloody shame.
While my friends were out meeting guys and living for the next happy hour I was in a serious relationship with Babies R Us and we could barely stand the sight of each other. Should I go with pink or green bedding? Pampers or Luvs? And so on. I took note of the fact that my friends were suddenly “busy” all the time. They weren’t interested in discussions about breastfeeding vs. bottle feeding, and all the unpleasant side effects of pregnancy. Let’s face it; going shopping isn’t nearly as fun when you’re getting sick at every stop light along the way. It’s even less fun when you can’t fit in to anything and your massive belly is taking out entire racks of clothing (and sometimes a sales associate or two). Always the life of the party, it was a bitter pill to swallow. Aside from the fact that the father-to-be was simply, as he put it, not going to be…like ever. So there I was–no friends, no boyfriend, no plan and no clue how to cope.
I knew it would be hard but I couldn’t have imagined it would test me in every possible way one can be tested. I was comfortable with lonely. It was a familiar feeling, or so I thought…until suddenly it was staring me in the face and it was all I had. This was paralyzing for me.
In the midst of a crisis we rarely can see past the “right now”. I had no idea what was to come or how my life would turn out. The months were long up until the day I went in to labor. The thought never once crossed my mind that I would actually enjoy being a mother, that I didn’t need a man to make it work, that I deserved happiness, and that this little baby would bring me happiness unlike anything else ever would or could. I couldn’t see that far around the bend.
I can’t definitively say when the change happened. I don’t know where in the process of labor pains and holding her that my loneliness and guilt fell away. I was able to feel happiness again and the process of healing those growing pains began. Being a mother was far more important than any bit of guilt I had felt up to this point. It paled in comparison. I was suddenly somebody’s everything, she was mine, and nothing in this world had ever felt so good before or since. I didn’t need to punish myself anymore, I didn’t need a partner to make it complete for me, I didn’t fear the judgmental stares (I could have cared less anymore) and in the end, I finally made amends with Babies R Us.
