Mom 2018

Mother's Day was sweet. Originally I wanted to go out for brunch and see other moms, but R and I dropped quite a bit of dough on home improvement, so I changed my mind to breakfast on our balcony. R is an expert at it: perfectly fried hashbrowns, eggs, bacon, a bit of chili con carne to Mexify it, and Starbucks. It was a really lovely, quiet morning. The only Mother's Day I'll ever celebrate before Sheep is out in the world.

Sheep's movements are even stronger these days, jolting my body every time there's a kick or punch. I can actually faintly see the baby turn now. Even at my advanced stage, co-workers are still tentatively asking if I'm pregnant - they've had too many traumatic experiences falsely calling out a "pregnant" woman, I suppose. A few nights ago I swore Sheep had grown overnight; I had a terrible sleep, as every position felt uncomfortable. In the morning I had difficulty getting out of bed and walking around. A couple days later and I've become used to the new bulk, knowing that I'm about to enter the crucial final trimester where a lot of growth happens. (Side note: I bought a shoe horn. Seriously.)

It doesn't happen every single night, but I've definitely had times where I've laid down for bed and suddenly burst into tears. It's usually with the realization that my life is about to change completely and forever. It's not like moving to Spain, where if I want to I can come back home. There's no going back to "single me". If I wanted to (I don't desire it these days) I could party hard all night and crash into bed at 8 a.m., but if I were to do that I'd be thinking in the back of my head, "What about Sheep? You're a mom now."

For Mother's Day, R gave me a gift. Although it had a simple message, unbeknownst to him it carried a lot of weight for me:

Before I received this gift, I'd been ruminating over my past life, and all the exciting things I did. Things that would be difficult / impossible to do for the next few years (minimum). I was mourning the old me, because it felt like it was being thrown away into a desert wasteland, to be dissolved like dust in the wind. Receiving this message on a mug made me realize, I only became a mom now, and everything in my past counted towards the present. I'm not throwing anything away, rather it's all accumulated and counted towards where I am now. As a newly "established" mom, I have a "company history" that forms who I am today.

In short, this mug really made my day. That and the homemade hashbrowns.