This post is an ode to the universe's greatest gift to pregnant-kind: Spandex.
.JPG)
After a few months of fitting into my old pants using rubber bands and belly bands, I finally caved and bought a few stretchy maternity pants, and also. Leggings. And I think I may have made an audibly inappropriate sound of relief and joy in the dressing room. The song "A whole new world!" may have busted out in my mind.
Luckily, on this front, Jonny is understanding to the max. He is a guy. Comfort is key. He won't buy a shirt for himself unless it feels perfect. He insisted on buying an expensive glider for the nursery, anticipating the hours we'll both spend sleeping/rocking our babe while sunk into its pillowy depths. He frowned when I excitedly pulled several pairs of overalls out of the shopping bag for our baby to grow into... (what is it with babies/toddlers in overalls? melts me.) And he made comments about too many snaps and buttons and insisted that our child will be comfortable if nothing else in life and made his first fatherly declaration- he or she shall wear only footie pajamas until the age of 5.
And so, while my occasional shopping sprees are generally met with pointed looks toward my already exploding closet, this time around, he fully supports the buying of yet more stretchy clothing. I appreciate this. So much.
And this Sunday we were running late, as always. And while I was trying to tame my mane and grimacing into the bathroom mirror, my sweet Jonny popped his head of perfect hair into the room and asked, "do you know what you're going to wear?"- Trying to help push me along since I inevitably try on no less than 3 outfits per Sunday morning. And I happily responded that yes! I actually knew exactly what dress to don as soon as my curling iron and I managed to make something decent of my locks. But on second thought, maybe I only knew in my mind. Because, hello? I'm GROWING a human child on the inside of me. And so.
Some days, I try on something that fit just yesterday and end up yanking it off in jerky movements and with heavy breathing, throw it onto our sheepskin rug. Too tight, too short, too weird, wrong color, wrong shape, etc.
Ladies, can I get a sympathetic head nod?
Most days though, I really love my bump. I'm embracing the physical changes because it means a miracle is taking place. And when our baby dances and rolls and moves, I'm reassured that this is real.
After a few months of fitting into my old pants using rubber bands and belly bands, I finally caved and bought a few stretchy maternity pants, and also. Leggings. And I think I may have made an audibly inappropriate sound of relief and joy in the dressing room. The song "A whole new world!" may have busted out in my mind.
Luckily, on this front, Jonny is understanding to the max. He is a guy. Comfort is key. He won't buy a shirt for himself unless it feels perfect. He insisted on buying an expensive glider for the nursery, anticipating the hours we'll both spend sleeping/rocking our babe while sunk into its pillowy depths. He frowned when I excitedly pulled several pairs of overalls out of the shopping bag for our baby to grow into... (what is it with babies/toddlers in overalls? melts me.) And he made comments about too many snaps and buttons and insisted that our child will be comfortable if nothing else in life and made his first fatherly declaration- he or she shall wear only footie pajamas until the age of 5.
And so, while my occasional shopping sprees are generally met with pointed looks toward my already exploding closet, this time around, he fully supports the buying of yet more stretchy clothing. I appreciate this. So much.
And this Sunday we were running late, as always. And while I was trying to tame my mane and grimacing into the bathroom mirror, my sweet Jonny popped his head of perfect hair into the room and asked, "do you know what you're going to wear?"- Trying to help push me along since I inevitably try on no less than 3 outfits per Sunday morning. And I happily responded that yes! I actually knew exactly what dress to don as soon as my curling iron and I managed to make something decent of my locks. But on second thought, maybe I only knew in my mind. Because, hello? I'm GROWING a human child on the inside of me. And so.
Some days, I try on something that fit just yesterday and end up yanking it off in jerky movements and with heavy breathing, throw it onto our sheepskin rug. Too tight, too short, too weird, wrong color, wrong shape, etc.
Ladies, can I get a sympathetic head nod?
Most days though, I really love my bump. I'm embracing the physical changes because it means a miracle is taking place. And when our baby dances and rolls and moves, I'm reassured that this is real.
.JPG)
.JPG)
.JPG)
.JPG)
1 comment:
I hear ya! Hang in there and buy lots of large shirts to wear with those spandex. You'll laugh at the maternity shirts that you thought you'd never fit into and all of a sudden they are too small. And then that sweet baby will make it's appearance and EVERYTHING in your closet will not be to your liking and you'll want to throw it all away. True story...
Post a Comment