You know all of those movie and television scenes you've seen over the years when a woman finds out she's pregnant and she reveals the news to her husband and they both hug and kiss and cry tears of utter joy and happiness? Well maybe you didn't but I saw ALL of those scenes. So when I found out I was pregnant with my first kid, I felt a bit out of sorts when my husband and I were crying tears of the "Oh shit, what have we done" kind instead of those blissful tears.
I was one of those women who was deathly afraid of becoming a mom but I knew in my head that at some point in my life I wanted a family. It just never seemed like the right time to start. Thank God I'm one of those women who gets pregnant when my man just looks at me (okay, slight exaggeration) 'cause if I had to have worked at it...I would be still childless I think.
After half-hoping for a miscarriage (*gasp*, did she really just admit that??), I eventually surrendered to the truth that I was on my way to motherhood. (I mean, c'mon folks, I was just really, really scared.) In my head I promised myself I wasn't going down without a fight. And since I was THIS kind of prego lady, I desperately wanted the world to show me that I was not alone. But instead, along the way, as my belly grew and my need for maternity clothes became well, a necessity, all I saw were images like this:
a little happy kick!
Okay she's kicking in heels! I can't do that when NOT prego.
I'm not sure this one even needs any words.
And these images scared the living sh#t out of me.
Pregnancy seemed to mean joy and happiness and faith and life and excitement and new beginnings and time to partake in some happy jigs, but what about me?? Me?? ME??
I felt all... semi-distraught and well...fat. Really. A big butt had replaced well, my medium-sized one. I was all butt and booby and hippy and well, you know, it's called being pregnant. Even my Japanese dry-cleaning lady down the street said to me - "How far along you? Nine months?" "No," I sheepishly replied, "I'm six and half months." To which she replied, "Oh, you big!" (I have never quite forgiven her for that statement by the way.)
So all I'm wondering is, why can't someone come up with a catalogue for maternity clothes without these thin women standing there all glowing and rubbing their bellies and kicking their heels? There has simply GOT to be other women out there like me who have felt this way. Am I right people?
There could be normal women, who are not the thin-and-happy-with-a-perfectly-round-belly-type, sitting there with a scared, somewhat resigned look on their face modeling some basic clothes for pregos. Is this too much to ask? There could even be little captions underneath talking about how hard it is to surrender your body to the life within. About how the catalogue understands you're afraid of losing your life to some baby, and how if you only buy these particular maternity clothes, some of your anxiety would dissipate.
I tell you, if I had come across a maternity catalogue like that, I would have been their number one customer. And I would be singing their praises to every woman I know.
So now that I'm out in the blogosphere reaching thousands of women around the world, can someone please tell me if something like this now exists?