This Is What I Have.

Recently I was folding a huge pile of baby laundry in front of the TV on a Saturday night. In between rolling tiny socks I scanned Facebook on my phone and read the typical Saturday night status updates from friends who were out for a night on the town. I felt instantly lonely and jealous - really jealous.

I tucked the phone away and went back to folding laundry in front of the TV, but I wasn't watching it anymore. I was thinking about where I was heading before I got pregnant in contrast to where I am heading now. I was thinking about what I traded, about what I gave up and mostly, about what I don't have anymore.

I definitely traded my weekend nights. I don't have Friday to look forward to. I don't dance straight from work to a girlfriend's house to get ready for another late night. I don't feel that sense of mystery to the evening, of who I might meet or what laughs we might make. I don't look forward to sleeping all the next morning and meeting friends for a greasy hangover breakfast.

I don't have being swept off my feet to look forward to. Not in the same way as before anyway. I can't totally lose myself in someone - blowing off responsibilities and passing hours with hand-holding and people-watching. Riding the train for romance and eating dinner for three hours. I don't get to run away on impromptu lover's weekends.

I don't have turning off my phone. Ever. For any reason. You don't realize how that would be something to be missed until it is gone.

I don't have dashing out of the house for something. I don't have swift errand-running, or speed in anything anymore ... except eating.

Photo: Sung Van

I don't have my money to spend on me, or at least I'm not making enough to have any of it. I have to buy expensive formula and diapers and special over-sized-for-safety baby Q-tips and educational toys. It's spent before I get it and I don't get much because I'm not working much. And the work I have isn't what I want to have because it's hard to chase a dream when there's a mouth to feed and debts to battle.

I can't let my fridge run empty. I always have to have food because although I have a notorious habit of forgetting to eat (or even forgetting to feed the cat sometimes) I have to feed the baby. A lot. A few times a day at least. And it's expensive and she needs special items that I wouldn't ever buy. And because she needs what she needs and I don't have enough money to buy separate items for us both I have to mostly eat what she eats. And it's either gross or it's making me fat. Because babies need fat, the lucky bastards.

And I don't have my body. Not really. I mean, she's not living in it anymore which is physically more comfortable. And she's not eating food from it anymore, which is physically and emotionally more freeing. So I guess it seems like I have my body back. But it's not the one I had before. And it never will be.

Thinking about all these things I don't have made me feel even worse than knowing everyone was out having fun.

I realized I'd have to change my thinking or I'd spiral into tears. So I thought about the list I'd just made.

The weekends. I was never that much of a party girl anyway. I used to spend a lot of nights at home folding adult laundry anyway. And the nights that I did look forward to were never as good as I thought they would be. In fact, towards the end of my single life I usually went home early with a headache rather then late with a phone number in my purse. I definitely miss sleeping in on Saturday mornings but I don't miss the hangovers and I can't afford the greasy breakfasts anyway.


Being swept off my feet. Well I can still have that. Granted it will look a lot different - much more grown-up. But it can still happen. It'll just be more organized, less haphazard, less chaotic. But maybe that's OK because if the beginning isn't such a whirlwind then maybe the end won't be such a cyclone. And I can still go away for the weekend. It just takes a week of planning first, a rotation of sitters and my phone has to always be on.

Which is fine I guess. It doesn't need to be off anyway. And sometimes I do get to power down. Like when I'm in a job interview or if I ever get to go to a movie. Of course if my phone is being turned off it means that I have to arrange another emergency contact and preferably some sort of bat-signal that I can see from wherever I am in case Babe is in distress.

Not being able to run out quickly really does suck. There's no way to make it sound better than it is other than to say that on the rare occasions when I do get to run an errand alone it is fucking amazing. I'll actually choose the long line at the grocery store on purpose just to prolong the ecstasy of it.

Money. Well fuck, I didn't have that much before anyway. I do miss shopping for me but hopefully that isn't gone for good.

And the fridge really is better full. It's more homey that way. Dried out leftovers, questionable milk and beer is depressing. Yes it's annoying to have to grocery shop, like, by law. But it's nice to know that if child welfare came to the door they would see that I'm attempting to nourish my daughter. I would be proud of my full fridge in that moment.

My body. OK, I do still have it - it's just uglier now. But that does mean I get to set aside time to go to the gym which is almost the only "me time" I get. And it's nice to feel like I'm using my "me time" in a healthy and productive way.

But even though I tried to put a positive spin on the things I didn't have I still wasn't feeling totally fine about my life. So I did what I do every night when it's quiet and lonely. I tiptoed up to Babe's crib and leaned over the railing and rested my hand on her back to check her breathing. It was perfect. Soft and rhythmic. She was perfect. Warm, curled up with an empty bottle and Lamby. I ran my fingers over the softest cheeks I have ever felt in my life and I kissed her hair - still damp at the curls from her bath.

This is what I have.

I have Saturday nights folding teeny-tiny clothes that are so cute and small they make me smile no matter how many times I've washed them.

I have someone who already has swept me off my feet, someone who will always have my heart. No matter what.

I have a phone full of baby pictures and sound bites of garbled first words. I get phone calls from a little voice just wanting to hear Mommy.

I don't run fast errands but I have pride when strangers coo over my beautiful baby, when she runs ahead of me at the mall, holds items in the shopping cart or walks in from the car at my side.

I have more time than money and that can't be bought. Time with my daughter is worth every lost cent.

I have cooking meals, dirty high chairs, spaghetti face smiles and little person cutlery on the floor.

I have a body that can create and nurture life. I carried my baby inside me, safe and cozy. Growing. Her hearing my voice. Her hearing my heartbeat. I have a scar from the day she arrived.

I have calls of "Mamma" from her crib in the early morning. I have chubby arm hugs and yummy elbow and finger dimples to kiss. I have giggles. I have family holidays. I have slicing grapes. I have bubble baths and rubber duckies. I have tiny shoes by the door, bottles in the night and splishy-splashy mud puddles.

This is what I wanted and this is what I have.