I felt super guilty writing this. I blame hormones.
Checking Facebook this morning, I noticed a cute photo of some friends drinking at a bar, arms around each other, mugging for the camera. I clicked “like,” but truth be told, I didn’t really like seeing them all having fun without me. I’d been invited to join them, but at 20 weeks pregnant, I wasn’t up for a late night, especially one where I’d be sipping water while the party girls downed margaritas. So why did I feel so left out?
It’s not like I don’t want this baby. On the contrary, we tried for 2.5 years to give our daughter a sibling, and I still consider it a bonafide miracle that I’m pregnant. I’m just surprised how trapped I sometimes feel.
When I was pregnant with my first child, I was all in. Excited to begin a new chapter of my life, I fully embraced the radical changes pregnancy brought. Going out and partying held zero appeal, and I rolled my eyes at knocked up friends who whined about missing sushi or vodka. These sacrifices weren’t just worth it — I wore them like a badge of big-bellied honor.
Four years later and pregnant again, something has shifted. I find myself daydreaming about jumping on a plane to Paris. Or buying leather pants. Actually, my leather pants ensemble would look great in Paris, if only I could find a pair that would fit over my bump. Continues…