Thank God for cell phones and their unwavering ability to send and retrieve picture messages. This is how I will always remember finding out that my best friend in the whole wide world is pregnant. I don’t use the term “best friend” lightly. There is heaviness and a responsibility towards another person when you step into that role, and I am certain that she has filled those shoes like no other. She has small feet, and she isn’t very tall, but she took a stand when it was absolutely necessary and has never judged me when I- the taller of the two and the one with bigger feet- sat down defeated, lost my balance and fell on my face.

I remember telling her I was pregnant with Abbi, my 6 year old, before I even told my parents. I was 20 years old, hopeful, and nervous. She was delirious with excitement. I remember thinking, “Yeah, you’re happy, but I’m the one having a kid at 20.” After Abbi was born, she sent me a card, telling me how proud she was of me as a mother and how I had made such a happy home for my daughter. I asked Maria to be Abbi’s Godmother, and she said she was honored. I am not big into religion and I know that whatever amount of God Amelie believes in, it’s enough for me. Amelie and I have always been in each other’s lives, more often than not. I have missed out on one very big milestone of Amelie’s, but this venture will not be one of them.

I received another text today from her and she seemed nervous about becoming a mom. I am no expert, but because I had Abbi so young, many hours of my life have been spent Googling, reading, and asking my pediatrician LISTS of questions about my daughter. When I was pregnant with Alyvia, I “reintroduced” myself to the joys of infancy, but I also became research-obsessed with the pregnancy itself. Effacement, dilation, mucous plugs, when you can and can no longer take a warm bath: you name it, I read up on it.

             I loved being pregnant, I loved having a newborn, and I love being a mother.

            I love the fact that Amelie is going to be a mother, and this is what I want to say to her:

            You will second guess every decision you make. From the time you see the two lines on the pee stick- or the digital readout, circa 2009!!- you will ask yourself if you are ready, and you will tell yourself you are not. You will never be ready. You will wake up in the morning and look down at your belly and wonder about the life that is forming inside of you, because of you, and you will revel in that. You will get out of bed and place your hands on the swell of your abdomen and speak silently to your baby, and to yourself. You will wonder if the water from the shower head is too hot for your skin now. Should you adjust it? Is their literature on this? You will want to know. When you are drying your hair, you will wonder if your baby can hear the noise. Is it too loud? (For the first 3 weeks of Lyv’s life, she would only fall asleep if I kept the blow dryer on. Smart kid. She appreciates the efforts of great hair.)

            When you eat breakfast, you will think about the amount of coffee you are drinking. It is okay. You can have 2 cups a day. Trust me. You will wonder about lunch. Is deli meat okay? Yes, it is. Can I still enjoy tuna fish? Yes, you can, as long as you are not consuming more than 2 cans a week. And what about a glass of wine once in a while after the first trimester? Please. Don’t risk it.

            When you drive to work, you will be ever so careful when you buckle your seat belt. Soon, it will be uncomfortable to have that strap digging into your belly. You will watch every single car to your right, left, in front and behind you. You will know who is turning left, turning right, who is merging, and who is just an asshole. When you are pregnant, everyone on the road is an asshole because they are in your way and they can harm your baby. Your baby.

            Are you ready to be a mom? No.

            You will scour stores, looking for things that tell you the purchase of these items will help you “gear up” and be “prepared” for your baby. They will not help. You will find that most of these items require more assembly than they are worth, and that the swings make your baby dizzy. The vibration and sing-song melodies that are built-in do not soothe her like you can, and even though that much-needed shower is calling your name, her cries are screaming louder. There will be special books- read them. They are helpful to track milestones about your pregnancy, or the milestones of your baby. Other than that, they are just other people’s advice. You will find an array of bottles, pacifiers, thermometers, and bath tubs; these things will overwhelm you into thinking that you need the top-of-the-line because it is best for baby. No. What works for him has nothing to do with price or model number. Wait on these things until after he is born, especially the the bottles and the pacifiers. Trust me.

            There will be nights when you hate Frank. You will look at him playing his X-box, sitting Indian style on the floor (something you can no longer do) and you will resent him. You might find his cologne annoying, or the way he chews. The fact that he can now eat anything and not worry about heartburn or weight gain will make you want to throw things at him and at other objects. Try not to. He loves you, and feels helpless in his wife’s ability to create this baby in her tiny body, and doesn’t know how or what to say half the time. You will be annoyed when you guys go out with friends and he gets “silly” with the assistance of alcohol; meanwhile you sit there, sober, pregnant, and slightly bitter, because now you have also become the designated driver. The pregnant wife is now the caretaker to a drunk husband. Remember, he is not doing this to you. He is just carrying on with normal, everyday life and soon you will, too.

            But you won’t. Nothing will ever be the same. It will hit you again when you assemble the crib (which by the way, if you want to save $800, I would GLADLY give you Abbi and Lyv’s… it’s a great one). You will be on the floor or sitting in a chair, watching your husband put this contraption together thinking, “Yeah right. The baby’s never really going to get here.” You will start to hang his clothes up in the closet and you will do this by month. 0-3 months first, followed by 3-6, and so on. All of her socks and mittens and headbands will be in one drawer, along with the powders, creams, and washcloths. You will place a meticulously bought stuffed animal in her crib, only to remove it once she is really sleeping in there because it is not safe. The only real way you will feel like you are protecting your child is when you are holding him. When Frank holds him, you will check to see if it’s the way you do it. If he puts him in his crib to sleep, you will go in there twice as often as you would had you put him down.

            You will love this baby. Your baby.

            You will get agitated at people offering their unsolicited advice as to why you don’t have socks on your baby (because asshole, she doesn’t keep them ON when she is wailing in her car seat!) This will begin when you are pregnant and the old adage about people thinking it’s okay to touch your stomach because you’re carrying a baby in it rings true.

            It’s annoying. It will always puzzle me. And you will be just as uncomfortable the first time someone does it as you will the last. I will never do this to you.

            Well, maybe once. If you want me to.

            You will get into a slight (as MAN says) “spirited discussion” while you both are assembling the car seat in your car.

            You will be uncomfortable in a movie theatre because your feet will swell.

            You will want so badly to sleep on your stomach, but know it’s best to sleep on your left side (it alleviates the pressure off of your aorta… thank the EMT in me for that one) and your right side and your back just aren’t comfortable either.

            You will start to waddle. Somedays you will think you look beautiful (you will) and some days you won’t want to put make up on or get out of your pajamas. You will rely on your husband’s compliments more than ever. Tell him this, or I will.  

            You will wake up during the night various times once you enter into your 8^th month because you will have to pee so often.

            You will start to resent strangers if you are waiting in a restaurant and they do not at least offer to give up their seat for you. You might not take it, especially if your dirty look warranted or prompted them to stand up. You are not being overly-sensitive or unreasonable. You are being a mom.

            You will be a great mother. You will doubt yourself, but that is only because you want to be better. From the first moment you hold her, you will be convinced by the look in her eyes that every minute that follows will become the most important in your life.

            You will have concerns and questions and fears. You will wonder if your mom did it the same way you are, and if not, are you wrong? Was she? And if she is, then does that indirectly make you wrong, since you were the one being raised by her? These are things you will ask yourself, and sometimes you won’t find answers. It’s okay.

            You will have Frank. You will have your mother, your father, your sister and brother. You will have Frank’s entire family. For support, for advice, and for the every-so-often inappropriate comment.

            You will have me. You will have me to discount all of those comments, and make you feel validated when no one else will. Even if don’t want to feel validated, even if you are wrong; sometimes as new moms, we want to wallow in our misery for a few days and this is NOT post-partum. It’s simply called “what happened to life before this?!?” time.

            Thank God for cell phones, because you can call me whenever you need to. You have been the very best to me, and you will undoubtedly be the very best mother to your son or daughter. There are no APP’s for motherhood. But there are words from friends who have been there and are more than happy to pick you up when all you feel like doing is losing your balance and falling on your face.

            Love always,

            h.