Given that our little girl will be the first grandchild for all involved parents, they’ve all been very excited. The first time I was pregnant last fall, my mother couldn’t wait to go shopping for maternity clothes. I was grateful for the assistance, particularly since the idea of those garments really freaked me out. I was only about 7 weeks along during that first shopping trip, and I can remember how gross the big paneled pants seemed. I was even more unnerved when instructed to put on the belly-simulation pillow in the fitting room so that I could see how I may look after several more months of growing. (I have to say, that pillow wasn’t anything close to having what I have now, but I guess they have to do something to help drum it through your still-skinnier-then brain that you aren’t staying that way.) I almost threw up when we got to bras (and immediately upon becoming “with child,” I became “with hooters,” and desperately needed some new bras) and the talk turned straight to nursing bras, nighttime leakage, and absorbent pads. When I lost that pregnancy, I promptly hid any and all objects that would remind me of it, maternity garments included. Just too painful.
After becoming pregnant again, I was once again taken out to purchase new clothing items, particularly since we all realized I’d be knocked up during the summer months. This meant office-appropriate clothing as well as things like shorts (which I previously didn’t wear much) and a bathing suit. Both my mom and my stepmother took me out to help me stock up. While I was certainly more prepared this time for what I’d be seeing and what I’d need, it’s still rather difficult to comprehend how all of that loose fabric could possibly ever FIT at the time. The pants were so baggy they would almost fall down, and the blouses and dresses looked like floppy tents. I was told to “put it in the basket, as you can save it for your third trimester.”
I put off wearing the full-blown maternity pants as long as possible, as they were simply too big and too weird, instead holding together my drawers with rubber bands and safety pins during those first 4 months or so. Inevitably, I took the plunge and haven’t been back since. I have since reached a new milestone with respect to my maternity wear: I’ve just about outgrown it (or at least it feels that way). My blissfully baggy PJ bottoms and nightgowns are suddenly more confining. Pants just suck, particularly once you’ve gotten used to all the space. When wearing maternity tanks around the house, I look up sometimes and see I’m showing the bottom of my belly like a big redneck.
My only solace is that the end is in sight. There’s no point in going out and buying anything else, as there would be time to get my money’s worth. I’ve really started spending most of my time in my big floppy dresses, if only because they’re so comfortable (if not stylish). I only have to stay decent for another couple of weeks max.
P.S. I have decided that one thing I WOULD do different is to find more funny T-shirts, such as one with a giant Death Star over my abdomen (or maybe the planet Jupiter). If you have it, you may as well shove people’s faces in it.