Email
Print
The end of personal space
ADVERTISEMENT
Published: November 13, 2008
My life to this point has revolved around No. 1. I groom, feed, clothe and entertain myself. I make decisions based almost solely on what I need and want.
I stroll through retail stores peacefully and quietly, looking at what I want for as long as I want. I watch whatever sex- and drug-filled primetime drama I choose on television.
I live just far enough away from immediate family that they can't drop in for unexpected visits.
I'm comfortable in my personal bubble.
Things are about to change.
My husband and I recently discovered a little peanut growing in my belly, one that will introduce a new human to our lives next summer.
My personal bubble is already shrinking.
Suddenly it's OK to talk about embarrassing bodily functions with co-workers. It's OK for my husband to talk about doing the deed with his parents, uncles, aunts, cousins, neighbors, cats and friends. Soon I fear strangers will feel comfortable touching my abdomen.
Losing that self-imposed distance has its perks.
I get a wealth of "been there, done that" advice from mothers and tips to prevent nausea from the men who remember sympathy weight gain and cravings. When I can't seem to find the energy to function, I have people who are there to help clear out the dishwasher or do the laundry.
It's easy to get overwhelmed when I think, "How am I going to do all this?"
My personal bubble may burst, but I know when it does I'll have a wealth of friends and family to help me along the way.
In my first step toward motherhood, I'm OK with that.
Email
Print
ADVERTISEMENT
Advertisement
