When my aunt in Maine died she left her farmhouse and its contents to her four neices, one of which was my mother. The item I coveted most from the house was a full-length, rectangular, mirror on a swinging base that used to be in the guest room we always slept in when we visited. I used to sit in front of it and put together the wooden puzzles I found in the drawers of the vanity. That mirror is now in my bedroom though I'm thinking, after catching a glimpse of myself in it last night, of covering it with a black cloth, at least for the next six months.
A comment I heard a lot leading up to and immediately following the birth of the twins was "I'll bet you're looking forward to having your body back." As if my body had been on some kind of extended holiday to someplace exotic instead of being hijacked by alien beings who liked to spend their time camped out on my bladder.
The only trouble is, I'm not pregnant anymore, but I don't exactly "have my body back" either. Truth be told, I never had it back after H was born. When you really consider it, what body was I hoping to get back anyway? The one I had when I was twenty? When I was thirty? Even without four births under my belt, well only three if you want to be technical, twenty years later that body would have been gone for good anyway.
Every time one has a baby it's almost like totaling your car. Sure, insurance will fix it up so it runs reasonably well, but it's never going to be "factory new" again. And even without the occasional accident, normal wear and tear on a vehicle eventually takes it's toll.
I guess what I'm saying is that when you inquire as to whether a pregnant woman is looking forward to having her body back, without exactly specifying which body that is, it just opens up a whole postpartum can of worms. perhaps it might be better to stick to the more realistic, "I'll bet you're looking forward to being able to see your feet again."
song: Nobody • artist: Slyvia
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