Remembering when that was you.

Last February I found out that two of my close friends are both pregnant with due dates weeks apart. I have watched, sometimes from a distance (those hormones are something), as they have both progressed in their pregnancies. I have heard about the first trimester morning sickness that turned into second trimester morning sickness. I have listened to complaints of aching backs, disappearing ankles, weight gain and painful sciatica. I have joined in the excitement as they both revealed the sex of their babies and watched empty rooms turn into adorable nurseries.

I have watched and remembered when that was me.

It wasn't that long ago that I was pregnant with Nate, although some days it feels like a million years. Those memories are still crisp in my mind, unlike the ones with Autumn, which have started to fade a bit with time. I remember the back pain (ugh, the back. pain.), I remember the waddle back from the bathroom only to turn around and waddle my way back to it again. I remember feeling like it was never going to end.

And then it did.

With one breathe and a loud cry, that was it, I was no longer pregnant. The little boy I had waited all those months for was now here and my body was beginning the process of putting itself back together again.

I remember, days after Nate was born, being trapped on the couch a slave to the breast pump. I would stare at it with a mixture of gratefulness and disdain. Feeding Nate felt like double duty because immediately after he finished the last drops in his bottle, I began pumping to make sure there was enough for his next one. I remember feeling like it was never going to end.

And then it did. My body decided I was done, although I wasn't completely in agreement.

Then, of course, there were the midnight feedings. Making the short trip from our bedroom into the kitchen to grab a bottle out of the fridge and being unsure if I was actually awake or just dreaming. Staring at my reflection in the kitchen window and not recognizing that very tired face. Cleaning the bottles. Again.

I remember feeling like it was never going to end. And then it did.

Nate now sits at the dining room table, next to his sister, and eats his food with a fork and spoon. I listen as she tells him about her day and watch as he nods excitedly while following along. I see her helping him master the grasp on his fork and showing him that you are supposed to chew with your mouth closed. I watch as he hands her her cup when it is out of her reach and laugh as he pushes the dogs away, not wanting to share his food.

The breast pump, that once ruled my world, is long gone. The bottles that once haunted my dreams are a distant memory. Nate sleeps through the night like a champ.

As my friends enter their ninth month of pregnancy and I wait excitedly for these new babies to arrive I want them to remember what can be so hard to recognize in the midst of torturous sleep deprivation and the chaos that comes with adjusting to this new life. The minute you think it is never going to end, it will be over. You will be on to the next milestone, the next phase of chaos. Enjoy it. Enjoy every single second of it. Enjoy it for you and enjoy it for me because all too soon you will be sitting next to me, remembering when that was you.