No One Told Me....

My mother wrote a book when I was younger titled, "The Things No One Told Me About Motherhood." I loved reading that book, over and over again, smiling at the parts that I knew were about me and reminiscing about stories that I had almost forgotten. But my mother didn't forget.

One of the really cool aspects of memories is that no two people remember the same thing in the same way. We can go through the exact same experience and leave with memories that are barely comparable. Isn't that a beautiful thing?

I had started a list a while back about all the things no one told me. I think I deleted it off of my computer during one of my many "decluttering" phases. They happen quite often. The subject of my crazes vary from a jam-packed closet to my facebook friends list. Once it was my Documents folder, and one of the many casualties was my "No one told me..." list.
So I'm starting from scratch, and there will be multiple continuations of this post. A constant work in progress. Just like Motherhood. Just like life. It seems fitting.

• No one told me that pregnancy is miserable. I had beautiful pictures in my mind of a glowing woman who looked like she swallowed a watermelon. Smiling. Energetic. Just plain lovely. That, unfortunately, is not reality. Pregnancy sucks, at least mine did. Both of them. The closest I came to glowing was my greasy face thanks to over-productive oil glands. My watermelon was more like a small hippo that was distributed throughout my thighs, arms, butt, ankles, fingers, and boobs. Smiling, well that was a pretty sporadic occurrence thanks to my hormones that turned me into a pubescent 14 year old again. Energy. HA!! I had enough energy to exist and that was about it.
• No one told me that I would hate my husband while I was pregnant. I was pissed. About what? well, that just depended on the day. I was either mad that he wasn't pregnant, too, or resentful that he could sleep on his stomach. Poor guy. He never knew what was coming next. Heck, I didn't really, either.
• No one told me that the last few days of pregnancy would last for years, or so it would seem. I would have to do breathing exercises so I didn't completely lose my mind lying on the couch thinking I would be pregnant forever.
• No one told me that I would look into the most beautiful eyes I had ever seen, and, instantly, 44 hours of excruciating labor would dissolve from my mind. Those sweet blue eyes extracted any pain, frustration, and exhaustion from my body, and I was instantly in a blissful cloud of love.
• No one told me that I would come home with this beautiful bundle and be completely lost. I realized I had no answers, that I really didn't know how to raise a baby.
• No one told me that I would question God. I would ask Him why on Earth He trusted me enough to lend me this beautiful being. How did He have enough faith in me to believe I could give these girls everything they deserved? Why did He allow someone as undeserving as I was to care for, cherish, and love these perfect creations?
• No one told me I would cry. About everything. I was happy-I cried. I was sad-I cried. I was pissed-I cried. I was tired-I cried. My poor husband....
• No one told me how much I would cherish waking up 4 times a night to nurse this fragile little child. As I would be ready to pass out on my face, I would catch a glimpse of those gorgeous little eyes, the corners of a tiny mouth curving into a grin, those fingers that clung to my shirt as she drifted back off to sleep. There was nothing like it.
• No one told me that I would screw up. I would regret certain actions on a daily basis. I would make mistakes. I would be the one telling my 2 year old, "I'm sorry." And you know what she would say? She would say, "No biggie deal, Mommy!" And that reminded me that it was all ok.
• No one told me that my body would never be the same (ok a couple women did and I called them choice words under my breath in my hormone induced crankiness). And it's not. And it will never be. But the thing no one really told me is that I'd be ok with it. The reason my body is so imperfect is because of the perfect little creatures that roam my house like tiny tornadoes. I'd say it's a fair trade.

There is so much more. I really want this to be in chronological order, but I will end with this:
No one told me I would be 25 years old, sitting in a recliner blogging, a tiny tot right beside me eating pretzels while her sister covers her legs in stickers.
And if they had told me, I probably wouldn't have believed them.

-Lady Runner