I Cried And Cried And Cried...

I cried a lot in the beginning of my pregnancy.  I didn't cry because I was sad that I was pregnant, (quite the contrary), I cried because I went through some major realizations about myself. 

I realized that while yes, I was very successful in my career and in my pursuit of higher education, (and very proud of those things), I realized I was using both as a way to hide.  I cried for the young girl I was in my 20's and the young woman I was in my 30's that believed so deeply that since it didn't appear as though she would be getting her happily ever after, she'd better come up with a back up plan.  I decided that my happily ever after didn't "have" to include marriage or children.  I didn't dare think about either or dream about either, (the way that the stereotype tells you we all do).  For some of us, the "fairytale" is just so unbelievable that we abandon it in pursuit of other endeavors; and we create hiding places in those endeavors.  I am not, by any means, saying that everyone does this, I am saying that it does happen sometimes, and I am saying that I absolutely created some comfy hiding places for myself.

Here I was newly pregnant, 41 years old, newly married, a new job that I loved...what in the hell did I do to land this jackpot, and why now??  After being one of the oldest in my friend's group, the oldest of three kids, the oldest girl in my extended family, and watching countless friends marry before me, (I had a been a bridesmaid 15 times before my own wedding), watching countless friends and family have children, I made myself "be okay" with the fact that while I didn't have those other things, (those things that I didn't dare wish for or dream about), that I had my job, I had my education, I was solid.  However, in the deepest darkest places of myself, I admitted (softly) that I wanted more.  It was a whisper at first and then after meeting Jason it was my first step toward admitting it to another person, from my mouth...out loud.

So as the weeks ticked by, and my belly began to grow, I often thought about the person I was before Jason and Lillian.  I thought about how much I appreciated that pre-Jason and Lillian me.  I thought about how proud I was of that me, but I also silently knew it was time to give her a warm hug and tell her she did well, and that it was time to let go and to move on. I knew change was coming and all of it was a good thing but it was very important to me to honor that pre-Jason & Lillian me because I didn't want to live with a longing for what once was once my daughter was in my arms (because she deserved much better than that) so I wanted to be careful of that and give it the honor it deserved.  I had to get to work.

When we began telling people we were having a baby I heard a lot of the "just wait until..." (you can fill in that blank with "you'll never sleep again", "everything changes", "you'll never pee again by yourself", "say goodbye to regular bathing" and my favorite: "your life is over.")  Your life is over.  Wow.  Well, what none of them knew was that I was always one step ahead of them.  I was already to work on some things.  People really don't think about some of the things they say to you when you start telling people you're pregnant for the first time.  I often felt like saying "look who you're talking to", but I never did because that just seemed way too cocky and I'd rather not have that conversation with bunches of people who seemed to always know better than me...lots of people seemed to need to say these things to me, so I tried to have grace for them; and I tried to see their words for what they were, their own personal panic.  I knew it wasn't mine.  So, all of them were fine in my eyes.  I wanted to hug them all and tell them they were probably right and that it would get better and that they were all doing an amazing job, (and to maybe go take a shower...alone).  I just listed instead.  I had some bigger fish of my own to fry.

I heard "your life is over" more than I can explain.  So, fine then, let me think about that.  My life is over.  Then let's say goodbye to that life (that will be over) so that I don't resent my tiny baby once she's here.  Let's pay homage to that life in a graceful, careful and appreciative way so that I don't sob constantly thinking that everything that I once knew is gone and life sucks and I'm terribly mean to my husband everyday.  I wanted to be very conscious of all of this.  My thought was that if we're going to do this, let's do it right. We've got 10 months to prepare. 

I thanked that pre-Jason & Lillian me for digging in my heels and living a full, good life on my own.  I reminded myself how important that was to me, and how important that would eventually be for my daughter.  Lillian deserved a totally new version of me anyway; a fresh Leslie, v.2, and I was very careful to get myself fully prepared to give that to her.  I did a great job of giving myself the world, and now I was ready to accept this partnership with Jason so that we could do that for our daughter.  I shocked myself really, I was more than ready for it, I realized I was craving it.  

So, I cried.  I cried deep, cleansing, purposeful tears and it felt amazing.  I cried because I gave in to the vulnerability of admitting all of these things to myself.  I cried that I was being blessed with a child.  I cried that I was going to be able to give this gift to my husband.  I cried that I would get to show this very beautiful world to my child and then I cried because I'd get to see it through her eyes.  

I cried with a happiness that was so deep and so profound and I realized...all of this, every bit, every tear was all because I was becoming a mother.