Ever since I can remember I dreamed of having children. I loved the thought of having a family, but if I’m being honest, it was the thought of a little rugrat running around that truly made my heart flutter. I was that person who would stop a mom on the street to admire their little ones chubby cheeks and gummy smile.
Lucas was not planned. The year before I became pregnant I was backpacking through Europe, drinking endless bottles of wine and draining my bank account. I had no idea that in just a few months my life would be changed forever. Bottles of wine would be replaced with bottles of milk, dancing at night clubs would be traded for late night lullabies, and fancy new clothes would be swapped for spit-up stained t-shirts.
I remember sitting at work and going through my planner. My period was a week late. There was absolutely no reason to believe I was pregnant but I decided to go to the pharmacy on my lunch break and purchase a test. I came back to work and went straight to the bathroom – oh the excitement! I opened the box and it was empty. What?! Frustrated, I went back to my desk. After work I returned to Duane Reade and explained the situation as they looked at me like I had 2 heads. I’m not sure if they believed me but gave me a new box regardless. This time I waited until the morning, no rush right? I woke up at 7am excited and giddy. I peed on the stick and waited. I knew I would see only one line but nonetheless the anticipation thrilled me. After the longest couple of minutes of my life I looked down and saw TWO LINES. There was no way. The test I had purchased was a cheapie. I ran outside in my pajamas to buy the most expensive test I could find. Ten minutes later – a PINK line! I remember sitting on the toilet in shock. I cried and cried. This was my baby. My gift. I just knew.
I spent my first trimester sick as a dog. I had all day “morning” sickness and I felt like I could sleep forever. Everyone smelled and I couldn’t keep anything down. I also lived in fear. I wanted this baby so desperately that I became obsessed with the idea that something would go wrong. I checked the toilet constantly and could not enjoy my growing bump. I obsessively counted down the weeks until I was officially in my 2nd trimester. 12 weeks arrived and I finally breathed a sigh of relief. My all day sickness disappeared, I felt energized, and I was finally able to share my news. Ivan and I were expecting our first child! It was glorious. I absolutely loved being pregnant. Planning, shopping, searching for names. I soaked in every moment. Ivan and I spent evenings singing “you are my sunshine” to my bump, talking about our future, and preparing for our boy.
11/21/11. The day our world changed forever. This is only my 2nd official Mother’s Day and although this holiday is extremely commercialized I am not going to pretend that it doesn’t mean anything to me. Yes, mother’s should be celebrated EVERY DAY. So should fathers, grandmas, love for your partners, heck – even birthdays if you ask me. I am not excited for a fancy new bracelet or a massage. I am excited because I have a little person that belongs to me and calls me mommy. And we have a day to celebrate it! I’ll take it! I remember being so excited for Mother’s Day as a young girl. Making poems and messy hand prints with a quote on each finger professing my love for my mama. That is what it’s all about. I carried my bean for 10 months and spend every day loving and cherishing him. So what if we have a “commercial” holiday. Bring on the macaroni bracelets and lop sided clay figurines!