Before those two pink lines even had a chance to form, I was already Pinteresting my favorite nursery concepts. Gender neutral, of course, with lots of grays and beige and minimalist artwork on the walls. And a chandelier. Or maybe a modern and crisp light fixture. A burlap pillow here, and top it all off with a gray elephant… because the baby needs a toy or two, right?
Wrong. So wrong. I was mentally designing a guest room for a New York penthouse instead of curating a space for learning, entertainment, and calm for my newborn baby. My rude awakening came when it was time to register at Buy Buy Baby. Just the essentials, I thought, Who needs all that junk that other people have strewn across their homes? As it turns out, a lot of that “junk” is stuff babies love. Babies love color. They love things that make noise and create clutter (shudder) and are generally displeasing to my tailored, polished aesthetic. Luckily, my sweet and patient husband came to Little One’s rescue, pointing out that although my ideas for a feng shui nursery were lovely in theory, I had to let go of any preconceived notions. Our house, which Mike currently jokes is “50 shades of gray and beige,” was about to get a big splash of color.
This was my first step to realizing how much was about to change, to make room for the wonderful and messy and confusing and amazing. My life was about to go from neutrals to rainbow, and fast. And it was shocking how little I cared.
Just like that, my instincts kicked in, and I was suddenly picking out a brightly colored “bouncer” that played nine different melodies, and lit up over the baby’s head (a sworn must-have by mommy bloggers everywhere). There was nothing glamorous or neutral about it, but in a quick instant my aesthetic vanished, and all that mattered was creating a space for this angel that would be welcoming and happy.
Following this experience came the stretch marks, and then the need to pee every 5 minutes (I am now familiar with every bathroom in the county), and the lack of sleep, backache, and exhaustion that I am certain is just the beginning. (I’ve watched the birthing videos. I know that I am staring down the barrel of a very scary gun.)
Pregnancy and motherhood, I have learned, are not always a Pinterest-worthy picture. There is nothing sexy about nursing bras and hemorrhoid cream, but the reward for all of the ugly toys, morning sickness, and sleep deprivation is the most indescribable and unconditional love and excitement I could ever experience. It’s what will make these next 60 days (But who is counting) bearable and this experience the most worthwhile thing I’ve ever done.