Mama = Feet in Ribs (at some point)

I'm planning a baby shower for my sister-in-law tomorrow. I'm super thrilled for her, not just because I get another cute niece to buy girl clothing for, but because I know how exciting it is to be able to hear the crying baby at the end of what for many of us is a very long tunnel and I am just so truly happy for them.

As I was trying to figure out baby games for this shindig (and no, in case you are wondering, the diaper cake, guess her belly length in toilet paper squares, and baby food tasting games are all banned at this shower, just like the chicken dance and country music was banned at my wedding--I have standards), I realized my perspective of babies and new motherhood has skewed. I kept having to reign myself in. No, she probably doesn't want bulgogi at her baby shower...that wouldn't make sense. No, as handy as they are, she does not need a "snack trap" the moment the baby is in her arms. She doesn't need teething tablets either. Put the Gerber Puffs DOWN.

In my mind, when thinking about new motherhood, I go first to my experiences. So many of my friends have the same experience that it is always surprising to me when someone I know actually has a baby come to their family at zero hours old and covered in something other than drool from teething.

I've made peace with my infertility, in fact, although the loss is great in adoption, I cannot deny that I love the way my family is formed. After having some surgery in that area last year, my specialist told me that my best chance at ever getting pregnant was the following 3 months. She suggested we hop back on the good old C pill, turn on Marvin Gaye, and give it a whirl.

My immediate answer: No. My husband sings in a silly, weird voice when Marvin Gaye is on. Plus, the thought of getting pregnant just didn't seem like something either of us wanted anymore. My standard, tongue-in-cheek answer is that I am happy not to have a human's feet shoved into my ribs. My secret answer is that I'm not willing to change a family dynamic I am comfortable with.

But you know what, no matter how you become a mama, you will eventually have a child's foot shoved in your ribs. It might be while you are 8 months pregnant and it might be while you are cosleeping in bed with your dreaming, flailing son who seems to sleep best sideways...with his feet shoved into your ribs. No matter how you get from the beginning of the tunnel to the end, the crying baby at the end is the best, most perfect gift.

That is a perspective I can share with all mothers....even the ones who don't have bulgogi at their baby shower.

Picture is of my s-i-l and her daughter. Not used with permission and totally stolen off her Fbk page. Don't sue me, Mama E.