Yesterday I was on a date with my blog reader, trying to catch up on over 1000 missed blog posts (!) when I happened upon this striking beauty. Reading about another woman’s pregnancy made me think about the insecurities I struggled with during my own pregnancy, some of which I have resolved and some of which still linger. This is the letter I would have sent to my pregnant self from the future.
Dear Pregnant Rachel,
This is your life. The choices you have made and those that were made for you have led you here, to the cusp of motherhood. Love it or hate it, but embrace it. Be honest, at least with yourself, about how you are feeling.
You will miss being pregnant. No, really. You will miss having le guppy to yourself. You will miss the kicks, that elbow digging into your ribs, the soft hiccups in the middle of the night, when the house is still and the sounds of passing cars and the ceiling fan seem deafening in the quiet. Try to hold onto those stolen moments when things are scary or gross or just plain inconvenient.
Your marriage will survive and thrive. The sweet clumsy first time parenting experience will bring you closer than you have ever been. Your amazing husband will be an amazing father too. I’m talking diaper changing, baby kissing, lullaby singing, baby-wearing dad. You will love him more than you do right now, especially when he takes the baby so you can take a shower.
Harper will be everything you hoped for and more. Beautiful, with big blue eyes and a smile as bright as the sun. A little July firecracker, with a charming, fierce personality from the start. Yes, I said July. She comes early, pack a bag. She is already your greatest achievement. A new soul and a Beatles fan.
You lose all your pregnancy weight and fit back into your jeans a few weeks after Harper arrives. Stop worrying about if you look fat, you do, its part of being pregnant! (and try not to focus on the stretch marks, they are just part of the game). You are going to miss all that wonderful creamy, buttery, delicious dairy in a few short months, so live it up and eat a bowl of ice cream.
Just a few more things. You will be buried under a mountain of laundry but you learn not to care, the first six weeks are really really really hard but they get exponentially better after that. Stick with breastfeeding, you’ll get the hang of it. And best of all, the dogs won’t eat her.
Love, your postpartum self