WhitneyTo Be or Not to Be a Mother - Part Two
December 13th 2006 15:27
There wasn’t much to report on in my day. I’d lay there and watch T.V. I’d never much been into soap operas but by my sixth month I was a General Hospital regular.
Since I didn’t fall asleep at night until about 5 A.M. I usually woke up around 11 A.M. and Josh’s babysitter gave me something I could eat lying on my side. I’d never really liked fried food, especially not fried chicken but during this pregnancy that was something I at every day. Weaver’s frozen fried chicken. I figured my soon-to-born daughter was going to come out clucking.
I didn’t get many visitors. Not that I wanted anybody but family to see what I’d become. You see because of all the salivating (during the winter months) the skin on my face was extremely chapped (there was so much drool that it leaked all over my cheeks –picture an infant with chapped cheeks) and my lips were swollen and cut and bleeding . Couple that with the weight gain and puffiness from lying in bed all the time, the fact that I hadn’t cut my layered hair for more than sixth months, no make-up on my fair skin, crappy clothes (what else would I wear in bed all the time) and to say I no longer looked like myself was a fair statement.
One day cleaning people (since I couldn’t clean and my husband didn’t have the time we had to have them) came to the house. They came into my bedroom ands cleaned around me and then they went to do the living room. I could hear them talking to Josh’s babysitter. They kept asking her who the pretty girl on the wall was and she kept telling them to be quiet and shush. They wouldn’t stop until I heard her tell them that it was the same person that was in the bedroom…me. I heard them gasp and say something like, “how could that be?” But the babysitter just told them to shut up and go back to work. Mabel was a great babysitter and a really nice lady.
You see the cleaning people had seen me in bed and then stumbled upon a photo of me, my husband and Josh hanging on the wall. It had been taken a year before, six months before I started this pregnancy. It should have been funny. I should have laughed it all off but I didn’t. Instead I cried. I know I was incubating a baby. Some women would kill to get the chance. But I was so empty and so sad. I felt so hopeless and lonely. I wished I could be one of those cute pregnant women walking around that everyone cooed over or at least just a pregnant person walking around. But for the past six months of this pregnancy, for the eight months I was pregnant with Josh and the three months of his severe colic, I’d been waiting to live. And I wanted my life back. Like George Bailey In “It’s a Wonderful Life” I wanted “to live again”.
Since I didn’t fall asleep at night until about 5 A.M. I usually woke up around 11 A.M. and Josh’s babysitter gave me something I could eat lying on my side. I’d never really liked fried food, especially not fried chicken but during this pregnancy that was something I at every day. Weaver’s frozen fried chicken. I figured my soon-to-born daughter was going to come out clucking.
I didn’t get many visitors. Not that I wanted anybody but family to see what I’d become. You see because of all the salivating (during the winter months) the skin on my face was extremely chapped (there was so much drool that it leaked all over my cheeks –picture an infant with chapped cheeks) and my lips were swollen and cut and bleeding . Couple that with the weight gain and puffiness from lying in bed all the time, the fact that I hadn’t cut my layered hair for more than sixth months, no make-up on my fair skin, crappy clothes (what else would I wear in bed all the time) and to say I no longer looked like myself was a fair statement.
One day cleaning people (since I couldn’t clean and my husband didn’t have the time we had to have them) came to the house. They came into my bedroom ands cleaned around me and then they went to do the living room. I could hear them talking to Josh’s babysitter. They kept asking her who the pretty girl on the wall was and she kept telling them to be quiet and shush. They wouldn’t stop until I heard her tell them that it was the same person that was in the bedroom…me. I heard them gasp and say something like, “how could that be?” But the babysitter just told them to shut up and go back to work. Mabel was a great babysitter and a really nice lady.
You see the cleaning people had seen me in bed and then stumbled upon a photo of me, my husband and Josh hanging on the wall. It had been taken a year before, six months before I started this pregnancy. It should have been funny. I should have laughed it all off but I didn’t. Instead I cried. I know I was incubating a baby. Some women would kill to get the chance. But I was so empty and so sad. I felt so hopeless and lonely. I wished I could be one of those cute pregnant women walking around that everyone cooed over or at least just a pregnant person walking around. But for the past six months of this pregnancy, for the eight months I was pregnant with Josh and the three months of his severe colic, I’d been waiting to live. And I wanted my life back. Like George Bailey In “It’s a Wonderful Life” I wanted “to live again”.
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