I wanted it to be more about me this time around. There, I said it.
I mean, people were really into celebrating our first kid. We had showers and gifts and designated girl time so I could soak in life before motherhood. This time, I’ve kind of felt forgotten … which is crazy because I’m MASSIVE.
I didn’t know I cared until these last few weeks. I don’t need gifts, I don’t need a lot of fanfare, but I would like to be celebrated. I want to be honored for carrying another child while still contributing to society, being a wife and keeping my toddler alive. I want to be acknowledged for sacrificing my body even though I like to be perceived as low maintenance. It’s not just everyone else’s fault. I mean, I’ve barely celebrated this pregnancy myself because I’ve been too wrapped up in my own shitstorm of fear that this kid won’t be as cool as my first born and guilt for feeling that way.
When I told my best friend (mother of 3) how I was feeling, she said, “I cried when we only got like 2 cards in the mail when Aspen (her third) was born. It was like we cheated her out of something.”
YES! Cheated. That’s how it feels. Not just for me but for this tiny human. So … I decided to pull the pregnant lady diva card and asked a friend to help me coordinate a small brunch with my closest gal pals. It was settled within 15 minutes and I felt 30% embarrassed, 70% stoked.
The point? You’re allowed to want to be celebrated. Why? Because whether this is your first or fifth kid, becoming a mother is a damn miracle and pretending that it’s normal just because you’ve done it before doesn’t honor the process.
I say, get your brunch on and savor every drop of syrup and belly rub you can. I promise you won’t regret it.