I Miss My Old Life

A few times over the last seven months since having a baby, there have been moments when I’ve looked across the table and my husband and said “I miss our old life.” It’s usually met with a sigh and a “Me too.” Having a baby is hard.

I miss our life where we could go get cocktails anytime we wanted. When we could hang out with our friends without having to pack a bag. Before I had to breastfeed or pump every 2-3 hours. Before Ransom.

Now, of course I love Ransom, so before you get all offended just hear me out.

I loved the stage of life we were in before we had Ransom. We were in our 20’s, I was going to school, the Viking was working at a coffee shop, and then got the job he’d been working towards for years at a church. We hiked and camped and climbed on the weekends, we did what we wanted, and we were the cool kids.

When I got pregnant I felt such a profound sense of loss. I was losing my body, my freedom, and my office to this little person who I’d never met, and I wasn’t even sure I was going to like him. Pregnancy was a time of mourning for me. As my due date drew nearer I felt the losses stacking up, and growing nearer and nearer. The first thing to go was coffee. I hated coffee when I was pregnant. It was the worst, because normally I LOVE coffee. After that, it was my comfort and my sleep. I definitely wasn’t that girl that gleefully and carefully planned what the nursery was going to look like, I spent the first half of my pregnancy trying to pretend it wasn’t happening. Putting together a baby registry was one of the most stressful things I’ve ever done and don’t get me started on baby showers.

When I talked to people, they would assume I was this glowing mother-to-be who wanted nothing more in the world than to talk about this pregnancy and child birth and baby products. All of the comments and questions felt like jabs at an already gaping wound, constant reminders of what I was losing.

Is there room in our society for mothers like me who are scared shitless of having a child and feel like the birth of a baby is also the death of their freedom? (Yes, of course I realize this is dramatic, but feelings don’t care about that sort of thing.) Is it possible that our idea of motherhood as this thing that all women want and that there is something wrong with them if they don’t, is a little messed up? Is there a place for mothers like me who only reluctantly had kids and are mourning the loss of their “old life?”

If there isn’t, can we make one? Because I feel alone.

Im going to say this again:

I. Love. Ransom.

But I miss my old life.

PS. This photo was shot with a Hasselblad on medium format film, by @ericakrysl.