Warning: Parameter 2 to wp_hide_post_Public::query_posts_join() expected to be a reference, value given in /home/dayoldma/public_html/wp-includes/class-wp-hook.php on line 287
I’m in denial. Two days ago I flirted with the idea of putting on my skinny jeans -knowing they won’t get over my ass- just to lay on the couch in them…un-zipped. Mini Oreos in one hand, my dignity in the other.
Like, where did the time go? The upside down?!??
Two weeks ago I swear I was riding out Hurricane Harvey. Trapped, water rising, incredibly tired, and nauseous. The familiar, needy hand of the hormone monster trying to tap my shoulder. Warn me of her impending gifts. Unaware that our mini human was growing inside my belly.
I am. 36 weeks. Pregnant.
We found out we were expecting at the tail end of the storm on Labor Day. I know. What a surprise and perfect end to a crazy emotional week.
The water went away, school was in full swing for the older kiddos, then the holidays and then spring sprung up out of nowhere. And now here we are. Easter has come and gone and my little guy is expected to arrive any day now.
Elaborate and extravagant plans made to take advantage of this pregnancy in every way possible quickly went out the window. Now hear me when I say I was going to go all out!
Alas, day to weeks, weeks to months, Girl Scout to mini Oreos, life took over. A deep and continual well of contentment has seen me more introspective, soaking this pregnancy in. Enjoying changes my body, mind and soul (and husband) were amerced in. Just experiencing, without putting extra task to my charge. Nine to fivin, Head Coach to a rowdy house of six, managing my agency and being pregnant was fine with me. What more does a self-admitted high-strung workaholic need. This was all I could actually ask for…my son…my baby boy is coming.
Well that is until I launched Day Old Mascara (insert here me giving myself the side eye and smack myself in the face emoji).
It was low key this baby, operation preggo #2. We opted out of a baby shower. Who needs a gender reveal and all the extravagant hoopla people get wrapped up in.
Nope. Not this gang-gang.
We prepared our minds for baby number five and cut out anything that attempted to get in the way. My husband, quietly ex-navy to his salty core, refers to this pregnancy as my ‘war of attrition’. Boy, was it ever.
However, one vestige that would not slide was my maternity photos. Truly an unrequited exhibitionist at heart, I knew I had to have these done. Capturing the essence and stature of this pregnancy and all it’s strength gained over the last 8 months. As finally, I become a mother to my very own little boy.
This child is something greater near and dear. The closest I have ever come to truly coveting something. When Demetrius and I set out to try to get pregnant again, we had one goal in mind and that was give me my son. We wanted our very own son together. Coming from a family of all girls, being able to also bring my dad a blood grandson meant so much to me.
This pregnancy brought understanding. In that there are great forces behind bearing a son. I can’t really explain it but somehow knowing that you are forever going to be a little man’s queen and number one girl brings such strength to an expecting mother. The mere understanding that I get to shape a future man, a future husband, a future father is a gift in life that I don’t take lightly.
So here they are. I hope you enjoy the images as much as we do! Thank you to my amazingly talented sister, RDioneFoto, for her eye behind the lens and helping to bring my vision to realty.
This post probably contains affiliate links. You can read my full disclosure here.