Announcing the thirty-five week mark with a belly close-up!
Not even a year ago, you could find me in one of my gifts and stationary shops, straightening product to perfection or creating new displays or analyzing figures and product sales results to discover how I could make my three glorious shops the top shops in my district. Once home, I would continue to obsess over my job, discussing with Nathan my plans to move such-and-such display for maximum selling potential and how I couldn’t understand why the tackiest product seemed to sell the fastest. Occasionally I would break from work to think about my writing, or a book I was reading, or what was going on at church, or even something regarding the intricacies of marriage and other personal relationships, but hands-down, the subject of most of my thoughts was the job that I adored.
Flash forward to the present, and now you can find me spending most days in the quiet of my home, researching baby products online, reading reviews, emailing other moms I know, or even just rubbing my belly and whispering my love and adoration to my son. When I was working, I couldn’t imagine an existence outside of my beloved job. The girls who worked for me were phenomenal. My boss was unbelievably wonderful. I loved my job and believed in it. But now that I’m in the mommy-to-be chapter of my life, I can’t imagine why I ever thought that was so important. And I’ve since shifted my perfect product search obsession to the world of baby products.
Being a new mom seems to promote a nervous anxiety in the best of women, so I find myself in good company, but that panic means I consider every baby product purchase against a list of rigorous standards. It means that selecting a baby wrap for my son has taken three weeks, and when I hit the “submit final order” button yesterday afternoon, I experienced feelings of panic and relief. By last night, the panic had mostly receded, and this morning, I’m feeling great about the purchase, especially after checking my email and discovering that my order has already shipped! I chose a Moby Wrap in indigo, and I’m eager for it to arrive so I can practice putting it on before Garbanzo arrives. I also have a Baby Bjorn that a dear friend gave me, and I know that will come in handy, especially when we go out and Daddy gets the honor of carrying my favorite infant, but I also wanted something that would hold the bambino close to my heart.
I’ve been looking at wet bags for two weeks, and if that product debate follows the wrap schedule, I should make that decision and place my order sometime next weekend. A small part of me worries that this obsessive quest for the ultimate baby product isn’t entirely healthy, especially since Banzo may take one sit in the wrap and scream his head off with disapproval, rendering my three weeks of research moot and invalid, but I anticipate that once he’s out of the womb making his small presence known in a large, insistent way, I won’t have time to indulge in this obsession. Trips to the store for baby items will probably involve throwing the first item I see matching my need into the cart. Maybe I ought to treasure my obsession? (Or maybe I’m just looking for validation.)
Last week I washed Garbanzo’s laundry and folded it neatly. I got a little nervous cutting all the tags off those beautiful boy clothes thinking that what if, what IF, I get to the delivery, and my Garbanzo Bean pops out a Garbanza? Ultrasounds are hardly an exact science, and I had my parents and the docs tricked into thinking I was a boy. I was reassuring myself with soothing comments such as, “technology has certainly improved in the twenty-five years I’ve graced the planet,” but then I got an email from friends of mine, announcing their latest grandchild! They had thought he was a girl, but alas, he popped out a son! Maybe technology hasn’t improved that much. The good news is, I have only a few weeks left until his gender is either confirmed or rebutted! And this week is a biggie. Not only do we start weekly appointments with the midwife, but we hit the one month until due date mark, and Nathan and I have our first birthing class on Saturday. The birthing class promises to be a fresh, new experience.














