I had just finished a bowl of Tortellini Primavera and got up to get one of my husband’s oversized sweaters because I realized I was freezing. I chose a cranberry colored thermal sweater that I used to love wearing when I was pregnant with Little Richi. I hadn’t worn this shirt since I was about seven months pregnant, so it was especially huge. I turned to look at myself in the mirror; a silhouetted image was all I could see more than anything as the only light shining through the room was a faint glow from the closet. The baby was asleep, so I kept the light low as I rummaged for said sweater and put it on.
When I looked at myself, I immediately did the hand-over-top-of-belly thing and the hand-under-bottom-of-belly thing all at once, and half smiled and frowned. No, it wasn’t the same. Not at all. Although I still have plenty of belly left to pretend, it’s just not the same as when he was in there. I realized at that moment I really miss being pregnant. I miss it so much.
I’m not entirely sure what triggered this sudden burst of feelings, nostalgia, and emotion tonight aside from putting on the shirt, but I do know that at that moment I wanted to cry.
Maybe it’s because it was one of the last things I wore when I was pregnant. Maybe it’s because my pregnancy didn’t go to term, and I harbor a lot of sadness because of that, and I can’t seem to let it go. Maybe it’s because I keep my feelings about being so upset about the fact that my pregnancy is over, standing unfinished although he is here, and ended far before I was ready for it to that it made me so sad. I’m not really sure what it is. Maybe it’s all of that. Maybe I just miss my big ol’ prego belly.
But one thing’s for certain: No more babies for me!
I waited for this baby boy for a very long time – and I got him. I am so happy and content with the way my life panned out regarding how many children I was able to have. I have been extremely blessed. But I must also say that having Little Richi as a last and final child has given me everything I dreamed of and more – and he is a perfect final baby to have had. I don’t want to go through the morning sickness all over again, or the growing out of clothes and into maternity wear all over again. I don’t want to deal with insurance and doctors appointments and prenatal vitamins (ugh, the thought makes me sick) and the fear and anticipation of delivery all over again. I don’t need to gain any more stretch marks, or not be able to sleep on my stomach ever again. And last but not least, I do not want to go through a C-Section ever again in my lifetime. Ever.
As I sit here typing this, in his cranberry-colored sweater, with my sweet baby boy sleeping next to where I sit, although I miss everything about the way he felt inside me as he grew, I am thankful to be done. I’m grateful to have made it out alive. I’m thankful, just nostalgic. I actually do miss my pregnant belly. But, alas, all things in life must come to an end one way or another.