Barefoot and pregnant

I am Cinderella’s ugly stepsister. (The pretty one.) It’s not an easy admission to make, but I can’t escape the truth. Since my sixth month of pregnancy, every time I try on my shoes I feel like an evil stepsister trying to squeeze her massive foot into someone else’s Steve Madden slipper. I push, pull, and wriggle, but to no avail. NONE of my shoes fit. Maybe the Handsome Prince could come around with a man-sized glass flip-flop, because that’s all I can fit into now. I’ve tried to try on every shoe in my closet, and all I’m left with is a sad pile of prepregnant shoes that reminds me of a prepreggers me. Will I ever get to wear her shoes again?

I’d just assumed that once the pregnancy part of my pregnancy was over I’d finally be able to slide on my favorite pair of boots. But then, after some non-recommended Googling, I discovered it’s a distinct possibility that my feet might actually stay a whole size bigger. Google should know better than to tell the truth to a preggo. All a pregnant lady wants to hear is two things, “You look great!” and “Yes, we have ice cream sundaes.”

I was looking forward to wearing my pre-preggo clothes and even more excited about getting back into my favorite shoes—the ones that felt most like me—after the water weight evaporates and I’m able to count all 10 toes again. Now, I am beginning to wonder if that day will ever come. I’m beginning to wonder if I get to be that before-the-baby me again?

Since this is my first trip down Motherhood Lane, I have no idea what being a mom will be like. Sure, there will be changes, and different parts of myself will rise to the surface (hopefully the superhero parts) in order to cope with middle-of-the-night feedings, sore nipples and Tivo’d Game of Thrones. But I always figured I’d still be me. I’d just assumed that I’d be able to keep some of that pre-mommie me I’d worked so hard to become. Now, I’m scared she might be gone forever—and that she might take all her shoes with her.

I knew that being pregnant was going to usher in a new state of growth—I just didn’t know it’d be mostly in my feet. I always thought I’d be the girl I’ve always known. I figured I’d be able to stumble through New Mommydom in shoes that felt like me. Now, I’m not so sure, and I’m not so sure what I can do to be so sure. And that’s a little unsettling. How can I confidently walk this new path in just my bare feet?

So, maybe it’s time for me to move on. Maybe I need to stop thinking about the past and focus on what the future will hold. Because there are things about the future that I am totally certain about … like, it’s time to invest in a good shoe stretcher.