Posts Tagged ‘childbirth’

Inventing a pregnancy filter to sort thoughts and comments

November 30, 2010

An imaginary invention just might keep me sane through this pregnancy: a pregnancy filter.
I’m not imaging a filter that would keep three or four glasses of wine from reaching my baby, although that sounds okay.
What I really need is a filter that sorts the comments and stories people are so quick to share about pregnancy, childbirth and life to follow.
This filter will deflect the comments about how my life will never be the same, how much work children are and how I will be tired for the rest of my life. True or not, these comments are destructive on days when my hormones already help me blow everything out of proportion.
My pregnancy filter would strain these comments like water or air through a sieve. It would catch the stories of joy, love and adventure that other parents share about having children and let them roll around like sparkly beads.
While I’m inventing, the filter might as well be programmed with a setting that will clear thoughts of uncertainty or fears from my mind. I picture a little zapping mechanism that fries those thoughts like pesky bugs on a summer night. A little lightning bolt and no more worries about the future or my abilities as a mom. Zzzt. Gone.
Irritation that my workouts lack pep – zzzt.
Longing for a waistline – zzzt.
Jealousy when everyone else knocks back their third beer – zzzt.
Panic that my window on personal time is closing – zzzt.
Sadness for no seemingly good reason at all – zzzzzzzzzt.
Gone.
Now my mind can be full of wonder and excitement for all of the great things in our lives and on our horizon. I can bask in appreciation for the many blessings I have. I can smile about the little fingers and toes. I can feel my sweetie’s hug like a fuzzy warm sweater around me.
Armed and protected with this imaginary shield, I can respond to the stories of horror and exhaustion with a blank look. I’ll let the not-so-helpful comments slip right through the filter or get zapped into an imaginary faint puff of smoke rising from my head. Then I can concentrate on what really matters: finding happiness in change.

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