Nothing Was True Until Now
by Sonya Versluys
CreateWords.com 

Recently a friend called and invited me out for the evening. We were to meet at a bar for a drink and then wander down to the mall for a movie. Since delivering my daughter 16 months ago, the evening my friend was proposing would usually seem a little out of my reach. 

I decided to go anyway, despite the fact that all I really wanted to do was curl up in bed with a book, watch a little television and then fall into unconsciousness for at least eight hours. I hadn’t seen my friend in quite some time yet before I had the baby we would meet regularly just to hang out. Maybe she missed me! 

In order for me to make it to the bar on time I had to feed and bathe my wriggly daughter and myself, put her in the car and go pick up my husband from work early. They then dropped me off and continued on home in our only car while I stood on the street and pondered exactly why this mission was so important. My new short, easy care hairdo was a little mussed and when I looked down at my sweater I noticed a small smudge of spaghetti sauce, my daughter’s chosen meal for the evening, working its way into the weave. Overall the damage wasn’t too bad considering the marathon of events that had preceded my arrival. I smoothed my hair as best I could, straightened my sweater over my jeans and walked into the bar. I was only five minutes late. 

I spied my friend across the room already sipping her wine and started to make my way over to her. She looked fantastic, the picture of togetherness. Completely decked out in a black business suit, nylons and heeled ankle boots. Her long hair was out, looked very sheik, and as I drew closer I noticed that she even smelt good. She saw me coming and waved me over. I guess I sat down with a little too much gusto because the look that I saw on my friend’s face was one of sympathy and pity. You know the one, a little head tilt, a little closed mouth smile and maybe even a raised brow. I had seen this look on many occasions since I had my baby girl. 

Like many other childless people, I guess my friend was making a silent comment on my coming apart at the seams. I definitely wasn’t the savvy, social and dressy woman she had gotten to know years earlier. Maybe I wasn’t the same person at all. As our conversation ensued I realized that there was very little I had to contribute to what was obviously interesting to my companion. It had been months since I had read a newspaper front to back, the evening news depressed me too much (who had the time anyway?) and the whole "whose who" scene failed to impress me at all. 

I realized with clarity that nothing was true about me until now. Before I delivered my baby there was this person who I thought I was. I was just discovering that my little miracle was the embodiment of my new soul. To say that having a child is life changing is an understatement and like most life changing events, the opportunity for spiritual growth is amazing. Whether you embrace that growth or not is entirely up to you. The alternative is to simply dissolve into a puddle of parental mush. (It happens!). 

So my friend gives me the look. It is one of pity. I have received the look many times since having a baby and I know all to well what it means. I know because not only have a received the look, I have given it. In my pre-baby days I would gaze with pity at mothers who couldn’t pull it together enough to get out of the house clean and on time. I felt sorry for them because their clothes were rumpled and stained and they cut their hair short month after month simply because they couldn’t handle it any other way. I felt sorry for what they had given up. 

I sat there and continued to listen to my friend lament about some trivial little work issue but secretly my mind was in a different place. When I got home I was going to sneak into my daughter’s room and stare at her while she was sleeping. Maybe I would stroke her hair and kiss her soft little cheek. Then I would quietly thank her for making me a better person. I would say thank you for helping me tap into patience I never knew existed, thank you for teaching me how to marvel at the most inconsequential details from bubbles floating in the sky to a parade of ants marching, thank you for sharing your beauty with me and teaching me what it means to experience pure selflessness and thank you for teaching me how to love and be loved unconditionally. 

Though I didn’t say it, I thought, "Friend, I know what I have given up. But you have no idea what I’ve gained."

Oh, and as for my friend? She invited me out because she wanted to tell me she was pregnant. (Big smile)  

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