Well, almost. The beetle but the dust yesterday, leaving me carless. With no deadlines and no car, I'm here at home, trying to figure out the best way to spend the cold winter day. While it's supposed to be spring, it's freezing.
The shoe crisis has passed and I got my shopping fix last Saturday with Steve's mom and sister. Four lovely pairs of shoes later, I'm ready for the hottest maternity fashions. But now I'm having a bit of an image crisis. Maternity clothes just don't fit my self-image. They're a bit "cute." Which is a term I've fought most of my life. The little freckle-faced redhead girl was always "cute" and I wanted to be pretty, attractive, hot even. And so I worked on it. The accessories helped, but I've no belt that fits, nor would I want to highlight my midsection. I see pregnant women all the time with tight fitting tops that highlight their expectant situation. I, on the other hand, don't really like the look that emphasizes a belly button that has been misshapen by baby. And so I pick out little peasant shirts that so don't feel quite right and which undoubtedly make me look "cute." But a small price to pay I think for the prospect of having a child.
Next week I'm scheduled for an ultrasound and the revelation of just what sex this child may be. I think girl - Chris agrees as does Lynnette. Ann says boy, but I just think that's wishful thinking. In the meantime, I think about the nursery. Will it be very pink? Or should I paint dragonflies on the walls? For now I wait and wonder. I wonder just how ready I am for this massive undertaking which, admit it, will last the rest of my life. This changes everything that I thought my forties and fifties would be like. And I'm not sure what to do with that except to go with it. Right now that is the only option. I will follow my intuition about just how to do that. What I won't do is stay home all the time and make my number one "identity" mommy. Just don't see that happening. I will continue to be Melissa first, mommy, wife and whatever second. I know that one can get all wrapped up in motherhood. I used to have a hard time with women whose lives revolved around their children and I'm hoping I won't become one of them. The trap is big with sharp teeth that leave one feeling caught and sore and a little beaten up for the thanklessness of the job.
When I think of all of the responsibility of parenthood, I get a little shaky. I was (almost) done with that, and enjoying the lack of worry - but it begins again, as life is an eternal circle. We continue meet up with ourselves where we started.