As I write this, I’m getting ready to celebrate my baby girl’s first birthday. (So soon?) Excitement, love and fulfillment runs through me to no end… a very different scenario than last year this same time.
Last fall, I was weeks away from giving birth and seriously worrying about my underwear.
I’ll explain: I was secretly wishing that I wasn’t yet becoming a mom. After seeing that little pink plus sign, just three months after my hubby and I tied the knot, several un-repeatable words flew out of my mouth and tears of fear began streaming down my face.
A baby was not yet in our plan. I wasn’t ready for “Mom-dom.” I had too much to do before a baby busted in on what I considered to be a fabulous and career-driven life (so far). My husband was thrilled, but I was light years away from the unmeasurable joy that I now know as a Mommy. (I was basically some idiot who got lucky, but was too dumb to see it at the time.) I ignorantly thought that being a “Mom” meant trading in your aspirations, freedom AND sexy underwear for a bunch of baby junk decked out with dorky designs. According to random stories that I’d heard about motherhood, “Moms” don’t have the time or energy to do anything associated with their previous lives… especially anything that involved wearing cute underwear.
When my little girl was born, I fell in love with her immediately, but in the back of my mind I was thinking about underwear. And then, very early in my Mommyhood journey, I came to a crazy (most likely sleep-deprived) realization – if newborn babies can spend entire days in onesies, then so could I.
I spent entire days, weeks and months resurrecting frilly robes, lace-trimmed tank tops, push-up bras, boy-short panties. I tended to the baby in my undies. I cleaned house in my undies. I washed bottles in my undies. Was I that crazy mom in the neighborhood? I didn’t care – it was fabulous!
I felt liberated, comfortable, oddly-inspired and more and more like my before-baby self every day… which I believe made me a happier (and more fun) mommy to my baby girl. We bonded in our respective onesies. My scanty wardrobe also served as a daily exercise to not pass judgement on my post-baby bod every time I passed a mirror. And, I’m convinced my husband thought it was kinda cute (despite his sideways looks and raised eyebrows that asked the question “you spent all day in your underwear?” when he got home from work). If I could be relentless about keeping my cute underwear active and outta the drawer, then washing my hair, wearing lipstick and getting my energy back would follow quickly.
The most insane thing about my wacky experiment? It actually worked for me. A year later, I’ve never been happier, more self-assured, more focused, had more energy or felt more love than I do now…. and my friends will tell you that I inexplicably bounced back to relative normalcy in the weeks after my mini-me was born.
I am convinced this was because of my unwavering commitment to cute undergarments… and yes, I give you permission to consider me totally bonkers. My tank top and panty days are getting less and less frequent (since my baby girl is getting older and it might be weird for me to continue this practice) but I still rock the Jockey when I can… just don’t come knockin’ on my door expecting to see a show.
Now you try…. and tell me how it goes!
