Well, the inevitable happened. As of yesterday, I stopped wearing my wedding rings. I’d like to think that this sudden swelling of all my appendages has everything to do with the mercury rising and nothing to do with the ice cream in the freezer, but! It is what it is.
I find myself desperately wishing myself into the future. The obvious one is wishing it were 7 weeks from now and my little guy is here. The delivery, however it’s going to happen, happened and pregnancy is over. But it’s not just that. I wish I was 10 years older, maybe even 20, and the little vain things that I worry about are not a big deal anymore. My varicose veins are just a fact of life and I don’t give them a second thought. I’m established in my community and I no longer have that pit in my stomach when it comes to making or maintaining friendships. I no longer feel defensive when it comes to the things I do and don’t do in comparison to my peers.
I want to be that mature mother and wife, who knows all the things and has been there done that and doesn’t freak out and refuse to post Mother’s Day pictures because my arms were too pale and beefy and my face was too pregnant-puffy. I want to be the mother who doesn’t pass those insecurities on to her daughter(s).
The thing is, I’m beginning to wonder if/fear that we never get over our insecurities. Maybe everyone else is just faking it? Sure, women who are 10 or 20 years older than I am have experienced more and they’ve done their time, but maybe they do still angst about their friendships and their varicose veins? But maybe they just don’t let on like they do. Maybe they’ve learned to ignore those nagging insecure voices in their heads and just move on and live.
So that’s my new motto: fake it till ya make it. And in my case, make it = grow up. Maybe if I just pretend that all these things don’t bother me, eventually they won’t. I’m about to have my second child and I know I won’t have as much time to worry about this stuff. God willing, this is a pattern that will repeat itself as I enter my 30’s: more babies, more on my plate, less time to worry about silly things. I think the silly things will always bother me to a degree, but if I start faking it and pretending that they’re no big deal, maybe they will indeed become no big deal.
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On a loosely related note, Dave is slowly working on our kitchen facelift. Right now, things are looking pretty crappy. The walls and trim require a lot of prep work and sanding before he can actually paint and in the meantime they look awful and there’s a thick layer of dust over everything and we track it all throughout the house. Ordinarily, I think, this would be an annoying process but I’m usually pretty chill about living with chaos. Being at the end of pregnancy, though, means everything is bothering me. EVERYTHING. I know that I just need to be patient and it will be finished. Dave reminded me that it’s going to look a lot worse before it looks better. That’s just how life is, right?
I’m getting more puffy and veiny (and whiny) each day, but soon there will be a baby! Amazing! Afterwards, I’ll probably still have veins and scars and more belly flab, and all these things will get more pronounced as I age and as we add to our family. But we’re building a beautiful thing, right? I need to let go of my superficial woes and embrace the bigger picture of what we’re doing here. I know it’s so worth it.