#WeAreIgniteHope A Seasoned Mama
So I need to confess to a mommy meltdown. At a very sensitive and strategic point in my personal and professional life, I had the opportunity and the obligation to yank it back together in the fashion-arena and literally put on my big girl pants….but alas - they didn’t fit. Lest you think me completely vain, I will admit to being medium maintenance. I am not at all high-maintenance but neither am I low. I dislike being caught in dumpy mom mode - which is easy to slump into with sick kids, piles of laundry and the detritus of life piling up around me. This is well-evidenced by my favorite pair of threadbare black yoga pants that I insist on wearing because of their comfort if not for their class. (side note: these aforementioned pants have gone “missing,” so possibly a fashion-forward member of my clan has put their foot down in a passive kind of way….but I digress.) But y’all, let me just tell you that when your spanx don’t fit - that’s a whole ‘nother level of drama and distress.
Am I wrong, or is it supposed to be a given that these stretchy wonders just have to fit, or nothing else will!?!? So I did some quality gymnastics and wiped angry tears from my eyes because of what this whole shenanigans reminded me of...loss...again...and I literally just wanted to sink into a puddle and cry for a while. I shared the sentiment with another mommy friend , and she totally got that feeling of nasty yoga pants, ill-fitting foundations, and the strong desire to find a hole to crawl into all too well. She said she wished she come into my closet with me with a bag of oreos and we could just rage and then regroup together.
That understanding was all it took to help me gather it up and put those big girl pants on. I took a deep breath, and clothes myself in the first fancy, new dress I’ve worn in years. “Why?”, you might ask would underthings upend me...because it highlighted my 6th miscarriage...the first loss I’ve experienced in 9 years...but the emotions, the pain and the hollow-want - all those long-forgotten feelings, came crashing down hard. But just as I’ve done before, just as so many women who face that private pain have done this year, this week, even this very day...I had to pull it together, put a smile on my face, and keep on keeping on...but I also had to find the space in a busy life to grieve...again.
I had forgotten how much it hurts...how confusing it feels and honestly how very much it sucks to know there’s life, and then have to accept that the - life is….gone. This is the first time I’ve felt all these conflicting, crushing emotions in almost a full decade, but the pain - that palpable ache felt as horribly familiar as it did when I walked through it so many times years ago.
The loss occurred months ago, but the reality is that my body doesn’t bounce back like it once did. I still look “matronly” to share it gently. Especially to Buddy, our kindergartener, who saw me in an unflattering silhouette and exclaimed, “Mommy your baby is back in your belly.” No, no sweet boy - that’s just me.” That innocent comment did encourage me to put down the apple fritter in favor of a handful of almonds. Just ugh….not a great trade off - but comfort foods aren’t the easy, consequence-free escape they used to be.