Yesterday was my sister's baby shower, which I've been planning since Christmas. I love a theme in general (I am a graphic designer) and I was pretty pleased with the theme I put together for the shower-- "Baby Love" where I combined some blue birds of happiness (since the baby will be a boy) with Valentine's Day decor and candy. I even found conversation hearts that had baby-themed messages like "rock a bye," "little angel,""big hugs," and "cutie pie." (I bought way too many of those. They're cute, but nobody eats them. If you happen to eat them, let me know and I have about 5 lbs of pastel hearts I can send you. Note the jar, below -- it is still THAT full!)
Overall, it was a great party. Great turn out, and LOTS of presents for the new baby. My sister looked both happy and radiant (in that glowy way only pregnant women can) as she opened (with Olivia's, um, assistance) package after package of adorable baby clothes, toys and gear.
It's pretty impossible not to get nostalgic when you're ooh-ing and aw-ing over all that sweet baby stuff. A couple of people even brought their babies with them to the shower, and I got to get my fix with a quick cuddle here and there. I'm really thrilled for my sister's new baby, if for no other reason than the fact that I can get my "fix" more often. Is there anything like baby breath on your cheek, while you breathe in their sweet baby smell? Not for this mommy, there isn't. I don't even mind crying and diapers. I'm immune.
So, why aren't I having another one? Well, first there's the simple matter of numbers. We're at our max on all economic, space, time and staff fronts. I can't imagine that it would be a good thing for us to be outnumbered, we perfected the divide-and-conquer technique way too well for that to change now. I also like sleep (when I can get it), and I like fitting into my skinny jeans (after I stretch them out a little).
But, there's another reason. The truth is, through planning this shower for my sister, I realized something very personally positive. I found amid all the planning that, for the first time since Simon was born, I was completely happy for someone about to have a baby. Up until now, though I'd never TELL other expecting moms that I was fearful for them, or even a little jealous when they had a perfect healthy baby, it was there. My dark secret. It made me feel like a bad person to have such feelings. I was ashamed to admit that I hadn't gotten over the trauma of Simon's birth, though I love him wildly and know how much worse things could have been. My fear and sadness colored every interaction I had with pregnancy and childbirth. The truth is, it took almost five years, and I can let go of it now, but I can't go through it again.
|Aunt Jenny (now a mom-to-be) holding Simon on his birthday.|