I’m So Excited, But Not in the Jessie-Spano-Drugged-Out Sort of Way

(Ten points if you get the title reference.)

I always thought being pregnant would be the most empowering thing a woman could experience. Images of Rosie the Riveter and Superwoman come to mind. I envisioned myself stomping around the house, (even larger) chest puffed out, letting everyone know I had a superpower. I can make and carry life—bow to me mere mortals!

Lucky for the hubs, there has been no such occurrence at the homestead.

Once I realized there would be no superpowers, capes, or grateful citizens, I started to think of pregnancy like a secret club. Once you got in, members tell you all classified information you need to know and show you the secret handshake.

I was sort of right. Pregnancy, and eventually motherhood, is a bit like a club—you have a common experience to bond over complete with jargon, war stories, and scars. But, the club isn’t so secret; the info not so classified.

And a secret handshake? Please, I totally wish.

But there is one little mystery surrounding the Preggo Posse…a comment I’ve gotten over and over again from close friends who are card-carrying members of the Baby Brigade: I’m so excited for you.

Okay, so it’s not a Bermuda Triangle level of a mystery, but it’s got me intrigued. Of course, my Maternity Mob friends are there to offer advice, wisdom, and sympathy, but every once in a while they will look me straight on and say, “I’m so excited for you.”

It’s not the words, per se, that have struck me. I mean, it’s nice that they are excited for me—this is all exciting stuff. No. It’s they way they say it. The glimmer in their eye, the way they smile knowingly and warmly let me know there is something more behind the sentiment.

It kind of reminds me of when the hubs and I were researching our honeymoon in Africa. In quest for knowledge about a place we had no idea about, we came across some folks who had been on safari. We picked their brains for advice on all the normal stuff—the people, weather, bugs—but when we asked them what Africa was like, all they could say was, “Amazing.” If pressed for other words to describe the trip, they would smile and tell us we’d have to see for ourselves.

“You’ll love it, though,” they all assured us.

Once we landed in Africa and made it to our camp in the Mara, I became speechless.

Yes. Me. Speechless.

I could no longer find words to express the beauty, thrill, and sheer awe of it all. Now, when people ask me about the honeymoon, I sound exactly like those who we sought advice from. I provide simple adjectives and a genuine smile.

It feels like my friends with the knowing and warm smiles have that same feeling about motherhood. They’ve been somewhere I’ve never been and there are no words to describe what it’s like. All they can say is, “I’m so excited for you,” and know what’s waiting for me on the other side.

Good. I’m excited for me too.

I’m ready to be speechless again. (And so is the world, I’m sure.)