7.06.2012

So I'm basically a pregnant pariah now

Apparently grabbing drinks at the bar and ogling men just isn't as much fun with your four-month pregnant gal pal.

Who woulda thunk it?

Both my first and second pregnancy brought so many new situations to my life. When I first found out I was becoming a mother, I was that annoying, ecstatic, smile from ear to ear, beaming idiot. I probably annoyed all of my veteran mom friends with my naivete and bored the crap out of all my non-mom, no where close to becoming a mom, friends.

Something strange happened after my daughter was born.

Suddenly, having a dozen gal pals to dial on the other end of the phone wasn't as important as my new family. And not only that, but I wasn't as much fun to them either.

And so, many of us parted ways. It's not their fault and I don't really think it was mine either, I think those types of things happen when you make big life changes. (Like graduating from high school or college, getting married or making babies). It's not that these people become far less important to you, it's just that other things become so much more important.

After having my daughter, I found solace in the new mom friends I'd made. There were girls I just met and girls I had known since high school but never really communicated with until we all had something in common -- we had created a life with our bodies. It makes bonding really easy when you skip down to the dirty details about who tore this much and who breastfed this long.

I figured that when it came time to have my second child, I'd still have the friends who had somehow made it through my wedding and first pregnancy, not to mention the gaggle of moms I never hesitated to call friends.

Unfortunately, your second pregnancy makes you as much of a pariah as your first, if not more.

Don't get me wrong, I feel more than blessed to bringing a second child into our family, but I guess I thought the second go of growing a baby in my body wouldn't be as hard as the first (silly me).

Expecting your second child puts you in a very weird position. You've got your friends who want to have their own child or another and either can't or have decided to wait for more things to fall into place; you've got the ones who have trekked a completely different path and either don't want any more children or want to hold off for a few more years; and you've still got the remaining friends who aren't sure if they want to even spend their life with someone let alone if they want to procreate.

There's a very, very minute group of women I now fit in with.

 My family is forced to love me, which I'm thankful for every day. Between my mother, aunts, cousins and sister-in-law a feel absolutely blessed to be able to bore them to death with the details of this pregnancy, without worrying they'll never return my phone calls again.

Short of my family, the three closest women in my life are in completely different stages of theirs. There's the woman who just had a baby, the one who became a first-time mom just three short weeks ago and has done such an enviable job in that short amount of time that it makes me happy I was too sleep deprived to remember how incredibly impatient I probably was with Pearyn in the same stage.

Weren't we cute in college?
At the other end of the spectrum, I have the friend who is getting excited about getting pregnant again. The one who has thought it out so carefully with her husband that I've been texting her numerous times a day encouraging her to have as much unprotected sex as possible. She's the first friend I really saw become a mother and the kind of mother to her three-year-old son that I want to be.

And the one who puts up with more of my crap than anyone, is the one who isn't sure when she'll have a child of her own. She's the kind of woman that was made to be a mother, nurturing, fun-loving and the epitome of motherly. She used to joke that she went to college solely to find a husband, settle down and start making beautiful babies with. Unfortunately, life dealt her a less-than-perfect hand and she's still figuring some things out. Despite all that, she doesn't ever hesitate to pick up the phone and call me when she's had a bad first date or when she's so hot she's walking around her apartment naked and just wants to complain about it. And in the same hand, she doesn't ever once try to run and hide from me when I bitch about being sick, about feeling fat or about being scared to death to bring another life into this world. She's the friend that reminds me of who I was before I became a mom, but loves the hell out of me despite what I've turned into since becoming one.

I guess the most important thing I've learned during the first 16 weeks of this pregnancy is to be not only ridiculously thankful for what you have, but for who you have. Over the years (heck, over the last few months), there have undoubtedly been friends with which I've parted ways, whether they decided to walk their own path or simply couldn't join me for mine. And rather than do what I've done in the past and focus all my energy and emotions on the people who've left my life for one reason or another, I think I'll just spend the time loving the hell out of the ones that are still here.

Love the ones you're with, or at the very least, love the hell out of the ones near and dear to your heart.

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