Beth-Ellen is nine months old now.
She’s increasingly independent, crawling and pulling up and standing by herself. She’s able to go longer between feedings, able to eat table food instead of just breastmilk. At the same time, she’s in the midst of separation anxiety, all too eager for her mama to stay near by.
I am nine months postpartum now.
Which means I am starting to realize that I’m something more than a mother of a little baby. I am ready again to be a woman, not simply a mother.
I look in the mirror and I care again that my face is blotchy with the acne that never left me after pubescence. I start to long for clothes that fit and flatter, not just ones that are accessible for the tasks of motherhood.
I realize that I’ve felt this way every time I’ve neared the nine-month mark.
With Tirzah Mae, I think I bought new bras. Having some that fit did wonders for my self-image.
With Louis, I went through my wardrobe and tailored outfits to my current size.
With both of them, I got pregnant not long after.
Because that’s the other way nine months makes me feel.
Like I’m starting to get the hang of this many kids. Like it’s time to add another member to the family.
I’m doing something about one of those feelings this time.
I’ve learned my lesson that clothing sizes are still in flux in this season of life – I’m not doing anything extravagant with clothes unless it can easily adapt to the ups and downs of pregnancy and postpartum.
But makeup.
I can do makeup.
So I rub on a little foundation in the morning. I color in my lips.
I think whether I have a scarf or something I can add to my “uniform” of skirt and t-shirt.
Three minutes worth of work each morning and I’m feeling like a someone again, not merely a substrate for milk.
And it feels good.
I love reading your thoughts, Becca. My grandbaby just turned 8 months, so when I hear what you’re going through, I think about my daughter and imagine it’s similar feelings. Thanks for sharing!