”
Whose idea was this again?
”
I asked my husband, Chris, as I struggled to pull on one of my
black boots.
The clock was ticking. It was a half hour before our first
”
date night
”
nearly two weeks after our daughter’s birth, and I was starting
to rethink the whole thing. Staring longingly at our bed, I
wondered if sacrificing precious hours of sleep would be worth an
evening out.
“Whose idea was this again?” I asked my husband, Chris, as I struggled to pull on one of my black boots.
The clock was ticking. It was a half hour before our first “date night” nearly two weeks after our daughter’s birth, and I was starting to rethink the whole thing. Staring longingly at our bed, I wondered if sacrificing precious hours of sleep would be worth an evening out.
For starters, preparing to go out in public isn’t as simple as it used to be. The work begins two hours prior to lift-off. First, there’s an hour of feeding and soothing our little one, then if that’s successful, an hour of getting myself pulled together.
Luckily, our Emma is a good sleeper, and I have carved my morning routine down to about four minutes.
But my clothes always trip me up. You see, dear readers, what those pregnancy and infant care books don’t tell you is that two weeks after having a baby you’ll be hanging out in wardrobe limbo. While there’s no way you can squeeze into your pre-pregnancy clothes, you’ll also be swimming in your maternity clothes.
What’s a girl, or a brand new, lactating mommy to do? Well, if you’re like me, you’ll go to the Outlets and buy three of the same pairs of pants and tops in an extra large in different colors. Then be prepared to do a lot of laundry so you’ll never be stuck without said new clothing.
So, there I was two weeks ago trying to pull together an outfit that didn’t scream, “She’s not pregnant and she’s still wearing maternity clothes.”
I had somewhat succeeded. I had on an extra large, nice-looking black V-neck sweater pulled over black maternity pants and a maternity button-down shirt. Notice how everything’s black?
The shoes were my stumbling block. Not only was my middle stubbornly holding onto its pregnancy weight, so were my feet. Half of my shoes – not to mention my favorite ones – refused to fit. So, I did what I’m beginning to learn to do well – make due with what I have. I dusted off a pair of black boots that I stopped wearing two winters ago and jammed them on my feet.
“OK, if we’re doing this, let’s go,” I told Chris.
A few days earlier, a candlelit dinner with my husband sounded heavenly. But now moments from leaving, I had my doubts. This would be the longest stretch of time I would be anywhere without our baby. You could say we’re connected at the hip, or the chest, or arms as the case may be. While she would be in the loving care of her grandparents, I knew I would miss her dearly.
But a promise is a promise. After leaving her with my parents, Chris and I arrived at the restaurant. And on time, I might add. Pretty impressive, huh?
We sat down and opened our menus. It was a surreal experience to say the least. Here we were 11 days after welcoming our daughter into the world, and we were sitting in a restaurant ordering Chardonnay and mussels like regular people.
“Well, we’re right on schedule,” I told Chris.
“What do you mean?” he asked.
I explained to him that my pregnancy books suggest you go on a “date” with your significant other two weeks after your baby is born. The books also gently suggest that you don’t spend the entire evening talking about your baby.
Well, we didn’t spend the entire time talking about her. We spoke about the wonder and amazement of being parents to a newborn baby. We talked about how we are the luckiest people on the planet.
We described the peaceful expression on Emma’s face when she’s in a deep sleep and the way her eyes crinkle up when she smiles. We talked about all the places we wanted to take her and the things we would teach her. We speculated whether she’d be musical or what sport she’d play.
We talked about how much we loved her and how we would always protect her and work hard to keep her happy and healthy.
“Thanks for tonight, honey,” I told Chris after coffee and dessert had been served. “It was just what we needed.”
