Belly and Boobs

Almost nine years ago, I became pregnant for the first time, with Annalise. Since then, I have had four other pregnancies, including two very early miscarriages before I got pregnant with Juliette. And I have nursed for 22 months (Annalise), 25 months (Zachary) and 20 months (Juliette). Let's do the math here and realize that, minus a few months, I have spent almost all of the past nine years either pregnant or nursing. That's a long time to dedicate my body, share my body with another person. Since we plan on Juliette being our last baby (I know -- be careful what you say), now that I am done nursing her, my body is MINE for the rest of my life!! This is a crazy concept to me.

For nine years, every time I took a sip of wine or coffee, was around second hand smoke, stayed out late (and by late, I mean past a feeding time), took a Tylenol or ate a Halloween candy bar past four in the afternoon, I worried about the repercussions -- not for myself, but for the barnacle. Now, if I want to, I can drink lots of wine! I can drink a whole pot of coffee! I can take the kind of cold medicine that knocks you out so you can actually sleep and perhaps recover from said cold. Maybe I'll take up smoking! (All right, well we all know that's not going to happen, but I had to try it out to see how it sounded!)

I'm not going to become a lush. And we all know I can't handle more that a half a cup of coffee without the music getting faster or my head spinning off into outer space. But I am going to go out with my husband for a date every now and then and not worry about the babysitter putting ALL THREE kids to bed! I'll go out with my girlfriends and come home late! I'll have weekends away! I might have something that resembles a life beyond my kids. This probably sounds ridiculously far-fetched to those who haven't left the world of pregnancy and nursing and so I'll keep you posted on the progress of this whole "having a life" thing.

The truth is, part of me is in mourning over having my body all to myself again. Now that I know that my extreme uncomfortableness (yes, I'm using that as a word) with Juliette's pregnancy was caused not by the pregnancy, would my body put up with another pregnancy? Am I not too old? Could we afford another baby? (Well, the answer to that one is easy. No; we can't even afford the three we already have.) Would I have time for four children? These are all good, valid questions. But a different part of me is seeing the light at the end of the tunnel. We just bought Juliette her own potty. She is speaking in complete sentences, and therefore we usually don't have to just guess what it is she is trying to tell us. We will someday soon be able to travel without diapers and a stroller. Someday in the far, far future, without carseats. We'll be able to go for a whole day without worrying about putting someone down for a nap. Jason and I might be able to go on a little vacation just for ourselves!

I am mourning the end of the baby phase. But I am celebrating this new phase of increased independence as well.

And my babies/big kids still need me. They still like to be picked up, kissed and cuddled. Nobody soothes a hurt tummy, a fall from a scooter or bike, having a toy taken back by a big brother or sister, an asthma attack, hurt feelings or a soccer ball to the nuts like Mommy. They need me to help with homework, learn how to ride a two-wheeler and to throw Friday night dance parties. Someday they'll need me to help with broken hearts and college applications.

If I've learned anything, it's that these phases go by too quickly. I can't spend too much time reflecting on what's been and what's yet to be. I need to enjoy the little moments that happen every day. Today was a beautiful fall day spent at the park with Grandma, Juliette and Zachy. Zachary can pump on his own, but still giggled with delight when I gave him one under-dog after another. Juliette just giggled with delight and narrated the whole afternoon. When Annalise came home from school, I was greeted with, "Mommy!" and a great big hug. Life is good.

So as my boobs shrink back to their pre-nursing, pre-pregnancy size (sigh. Good bye 32G, hello 32B), I must remember how much my life has grown in the past nine years. I have the stretch marks, the differently shaped belly button, the lengthened torso (What's THAT all about???) and the widened hips to remind me of the past nine years. And I'll move forward to the next phase of independence. I'll shed a tear today, but I'll rejoice tomorrow when Annalise figures out how to pull up "Word World" on the Tivo, giving me five more minutes in the shower. Today I'll mourn that there is no longer a baby in the house. But tomorrow I'll celebrate my big kids.

Goodbye belly. Goodbye boobs. You've been good to me.