I miss being pregnant...sort of...not really...actually, only for one reason.

You know how there are some women who say they loved being pregnant?  They loved how they looked, they loved how they felt, they loved feeling life growing inside them.

And then there are women that say they really did not care for being pregnant.  They did not enjoy how they looked, most certainly did not enjoy how they felt, and were anxious to have the life growing inside them brought outside them so they could go back to looking and feeling their regular selves again.

Well I fall somewhere in the middle of the two.  I'm glad I had the experience, I'm amazed by the Miracle of Life, and I feel privileged that I got to participate in it.  But by about the 8th month, I was tired of worrying, tired of not being able to see my baby, tired of being uncomfortable, and just plain in general tired.  I was ready to get Gabriel into the world and get on with it already (and I'm sure my antsy-ness is the reason he decided to stay put in-utero for a couple extra weeks past his due date!).

But lately...I miss being pregnant.  Specifically, I miss one thing about being pregnant. 

I miss the fact that people could see, just by looking at you, the reason for your:  tired, vacant expression; scatterbrained-ness; lack of ability to concentrate on conversation; distractedness; undone hair haphazardly put up into a ponytail; lack of makeup; jeans and t-shirt and comfortable shoes; and stains on your shirt (am I the only pregnant woman who managed to end up with part of her meal on her shirt every day??).

When you're pregnant, you get oodles of sympathy and concern from everyone who sees you, because they can SEE the "why" behind the "what".

But now...no such luck. 

Gabriel has a bunch of fun onesies that say things like "I love Grandma" and "Dad loves me" and "My Auntie is the Best".  I am seriously considering having a t-shirt made for myself that says "I'm sorry, I'm having trouble paying attention to you because I have a new baby whom I think is fabulous and who consumes 90% of my thoughts.  I am tired and didn't put makeup on this morning, but I don't really care what you think about that because my son smiles at me a lot and so it seems he doesn't care if mommy's eyelashes are Lash-blasted or not.  And yes, that stain on my shoulder is where he spit up on me this morning after I thought I was in the clear and so didn't notice I'd been hit until after I'd left the house."

I have realized, though, that the time it would take for someone to read the t-shirt would be a really prolonged, awkward, staring-at-my-chest experience.  So maybe I'll just swipe a fake baby bump from a maternity store dressing room instead and start wearing that around.  Or make my own, since stealing one would be really weird (yeah yeah...and illegal too, of course).  Imagine how much sympathy and concern I would get looking pregnant AND carrying a 6 month old baby!?