When I was pregnant in the Fall of 2009 for my first sweet daughter, I was very, very, very enthusiastic about all-things pregnancy-related. I mean, I had wanted a baby so badly for so long.
- I researched everything. Car seats, high chairs, cribs, baby gates, you name it.
- I learned new terms that I had never even known existed. (Co-sleeping? Uterus cramping? Engorgement? WHAT?)
- I accidentally [read: over-anxiously] melted my breast pump tubing in an effort to sanitize it.
- I bought not one, not two, but FOUR of everything that anyone told me I might need.
(I guess I never took into account that Mexican women had been pregnant and caring for babies in Baja California Sur for ages before I got here. Ah, first-time pregnancyhood.)
I have regular blankets.
I have “winter” blankets.
I have “warm-weather” lighter blankets.
I have monogrammed blankets.
I have crocheted blankets.
And, I don’t think I’m alone.
Sitting under my sinks are THREE boxes of 100 ct. disposable breast pads that I won’t ever use because I found a different option that I love.
See? So I am not alone.
I remember hearing stories from other women and thinking, “Yeah. Well that’s nice that your colic-y baby only slept 2 hours at a time and you didn’t sleep for four months. That will never happen to me.”
I don’t think I’m alone.
And this makes sense, too.
Oh boy, that first baby?
Life is never, ever, ever the same.
(And I don’t think I’m alone in thinking that.)