None of my clothes fit. I feel like I am living in someone else’s body. I am uncomfortable. This seems like a silly thing to complain about, all things considered, but there it is. Just because we don’t have a living baby to show for it, doesn’t change the biology of being pregnant for six months and birthing a child. My belly is larger than before. That may come off, but I can’t exercise in earnest for another three weeks. My bra size went from a 34A before getting pregnant to a 36D now. I don’t recognize myself in the mirror, and even my clothes that still fit, fit so differently now.
We’re going to see Les Miserables on Wednesday night. I’ve loved Les Mis since I was way too young to like Les Mis, 6 or 7 years old and singing along. My mom took me to see it in New York City for my 10th birthday – I still have the T-shirt. Actually, since they didn’t have children’s sizes, the T-shirt still fit me up until I got pregnant. Now, boobs. Oh well. After anticipating this tour coming through Atlanta for months, I almost didn’t buy tickets when they finally went on sale, because I’d be 27 weeks pregnant and tired and uncomfortable and for all I knew on bedrest. But in the end, I bought them. Paid extra for the really good seats. Bought a fancy evening maternity dress. This was going to be our last big date night out before 2 became 3.
Then, in the hospital, when I still thought things were going to be okay, I was sad that we’d miss Les Mis. And of course, I feel a bit like an ass now for being sad about something so silly, considering. But I didn’t know. And now that I am not going to be pregnant on April 25th, I’m glad I don’t have to sit at home thinking about how I didn’t buy tickets because I thought I’d be too pregnant to enjoy it. But it’s still a bit tinged with sadness, this crazy pregnant night out I planned.
So obviously I don’t want to wear the fancy maternity dress I bought, even though I bought this dress partly because I knew I could wear it even after I wasn’t pregnant anymore especially if my bra size stayed the same. All my other dresses are for A cups. Maybe B. They don’t fit. And I don’t want to go shopping for a nice dress, in my uncomfortable, harsh reminder of a postpartum body. The one that says, you had a baby, and all you got were new bras.
I’ve got 48 hours to figure something out.
I’m sorry. Really. Just that you always have these reminders, and getting through this, well, you just have to take it day by day. I am happy you are going to Les Mis though, it’s one of my favorites.