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“Trying On” Motherhood

Motherhood. For me, it felt a bit like trying on a new pair of shoes. It was a little stiff. Even painful at times, but I was bound and determined to make them fit. After all, I made the darn things.

For the first six months or so, they didn’t fit so well. And it’s not like I could return them, right?! I felt like I was running a marathon (walking a mile would’ve been a piece of cake). Not only was I wearing someone else’s shoes, but I was also living someone else’s life.

And I was ruining it.

Breastfeeding was about as natural for us as a pig playing the piano. I was overwhelmed with post-partum anxiety and depression. I was afraid to leave him alone; I was afraid to drive with him in the car; I was afraid to fail him. In the deepest, darkest times, I thought to myself, “What if I wasn’t meant to do this? What if I literally can’t?” But I could, and I did. I knew I could break in those shoes, just like I’d broken in dozens of them before. It took a lot of work, but we adjusted to “the new normal,” as they say.

Pre-baby, my husband and I spent a lot of time out in our city; we went to dinners, to events, to concerts, to drinks with friends at all the latest local spots. We live in the urban core in a historic home in walking distance to some of the best food, drinks, and entertainment in the whole city.

And for the most part, we still enjoy that life + baby. Our walks to lunch include a +1 in a stroller. We take turns meeting up with our kid-free friends for drinks, but we’re likely home before 11 p.m. because we can’t wait to snuggle up with our third bedmate (who is also an early riser). I used to consider myself an unofficial ambassador for OKC, and now I’m exploring my city through the filter of motherhood.

Lunch at Buttermilk Southern Sliders in Paseo Arts District

Sometimes I look around my house and can still picture our pre-baby life. I can still see my girlfriends drinking wine and eating Skinny Pop on our couch at “Craft Night.” (Very few crafts were ever crafted at “Craft Night.”) I can still remember our first meal with friends at our brand new dining room table (ice cream ball from Cheever’s – it counts!).

But now there’s a stack of tiny clothes on that couch and dried avocado and bananas stuck to that table. There’s a whale in my shower and a brown bear on my fridge. Tiny spoons in the silverware drawer. The glass coffee table is covered in little fingerprints (read: art).

You know how people say “This is why we can’t have nice things?” Our nice things have been made nicer by his presence. But those high heels I used to wear out on the town? I put those on the shelf.

For now.

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