My neighbors came home yesterday with their new baby girl. We’ve been watching her progress and my husband mentioned that she was going to have a c-section just like I had, two years ago.

Yesterday was a beautiful day and we were all in the backyard picking up dog poop, watering plants and weeding our rocks. I remember our other neighbors were out in their front yard doing the same thing when we came home with Zachary.

It hit me: here we were, just a normal weekend like any other and right across the street they probably were feeling every possible emotion a human can feel, most of all fatigue.

I remember leaving the hospital after a five-day-stay and feeling like I just stepped out of a space ship. It seemed like the longest five days of my life. Little did I know, the first month would feel like the longest month of my life.

Remembering that feeling, I made a quick pan of Lasagna and sent my husband to bring it over as to keep the conversation short and the sentiment sweet.

At church yesterday I spoke with a first time mother of a one-month old. I complimented her on looking well-rested and great. She confessed that she was really struggling since it seemed like none of her clothing fit, etc.

I told her that every day you claim a little bit of your old life back. Of course, we mothers know that you never get it all back, but you gain some great personality traits to make up for what you lose. And the hugs from sweet little hands makes up for being able to meet a friend at the bar on a moment’s notice or being able to keep a manicure nice for a solid week.

But on the flip side, who has time to get a manicure when you have a precious one month-old to stare at in awe and wonder? I actually enjoyed the change of focus no matter how long some nights felt.

A younger girl I work with at my part-time job is about five and a half weeks pregnant. They just found out they are having a little girl.

“How are you today?”

“Good,” she said.

“How the little girl?”

“Great!”

“Honestly, I’m having a hard time moving. I’m having a huge day. I feel huge!” she said.

“Oh, yeah, I remember having about two months of those…hang in there,” I laughed.

I was looking through my baby book the other day trying to find a picture of myself at one-year old. I wanted to see if there were any similarities between myself and Zach at that age. I found some pictures, and then it hit me.  When I was one-year old, my mom was 5 months pregnant with my brother.

They always say, you don’t fully appreiciate your parents until you have children of your own. I cannot even imagine how hard that would be to have a 18 month-old and a new born. Oh, and I forgot to mention, she was 20 years-old when this happened, too.

My cutie 70’s mom with me.

When you look at faded old pictures, you always see pictures of two little babies together, siblings. It use to be the norm. But even so, I can’t imagine the work load. Two in cloth diapers, two who cannot speak full sentences and need constant attention. Quite tough. Even for a younger person with a little bit more energy than I have. She went on to have a total of four kids. The next was my other brother, three years later, followed by my sister three years after that. She had four kids by 28, the age I got married. I’m still amazed.

Below me and my new born brother (with arrow pointing to him) and the next is a picture of the two of us bundled up for some winter trip.

When I look at pregnant women, like all sane people, I think, “She’s so beautiful, she’s glowing!”
But yesterday I saw a god-awful picture of myself from pregnancy. I looked like a whale. It was the nightmare picture. At the time, I felt like a whale, but everyone kept saying, “You’re so cute. You’re glowing.” So, I thought that my perception of myself must be affected by hormones. After looking at yesterday’s photo I titled “Circus Freak in Hot Pink”, I realize there were no hormones involved. I was huge.Thank god for Weight Watchers. Now I’m back to my Bridget Jones’ body-type self and no longer on casting call for a remake of “The Blob.” Of course, there is still along way to go, and by a long way, I mean 20 pounds, and that would make me a “chubby actress” by Hollywood standards. Who am I kidding, I’d be a co-star on “Fat Actress.”Today I saw a pregnant lady and as I was looking at her thinking, “Wow, she’s so beautiful. She’s glowing!”Then I heard her say to her husband, “God damn it! We better not have to wait! I fucking hate it when we have to wait.” Memories, precious memories

Me: taking the “hot” out of hot pink.