Confession Time

I have a confession to make. It is super embarrassing. It is one of the worst secrets that a mom with a baby can have actually. I’m feeling ready to come clean though even in the midst of food crumbs crunching beneath my notebook as I explore these words on my page right now. Okay are you ready for it? I am still in maternity clothes. You heard me right. After having a baby seven months ago I am still wearing maternity clothes because the size I would have to buy right now is just unbearable for me to face so I refuse to do it. I don’t mind buying size large yoga pants somehow or large t-shirts but facing a number staring at me from a label is just too impossible right now.

I have started walking even though my sacroiliac joint hurts all the time and it is difficult to bend down in the mornings due to stiffness. I feel like I am eighty most mornings actually. My physical therapist tells me that my last baby being breech is a main factor in all of my issues. Every time I go there they have to yank on me and pull on me to put my joints back into place like I am some sort of doll that has been badly mistreated. All rationalizations aside though I am still in maternity clothes. There is always room for one more though. They are actually my smaller size maternity clothes but still.

When I am out I feel the need to check the belly band lest my secret be revealed to those whose opinion matters most to me these days- other moms. According to all the celebrity moms you are supposed to be able to be red carpet ready in a matter of weeks after having a baby not months or even, heaven forbid, a year which is quickly advancing for me. In fact, my little one will be eight months this week, actually in two days which means that even in my confession I have let the truth become muddled.

So what am I going to do about it you ask? Good question. Well, I’m going to finish eating this piece of birthday cake I just cut and like Scarlett O’Hara the great mind who my southern mom so often quoted, I will simply say, “After all, tomorrow is another day" while thinking to myself those butter cream roses sure taste good, especially in a quiet house where everyone is napping.