a change of perspective

Maybe I'm a little bit cynical, call it whatever you like, but this is what I have been thinking about lately.

Nathan and I are moving out of our apartment soon. It's the worlds best apartment, but I can't stay here with an empty nursery for very much longer. Too many memories that I need to let go of. But that's not the point. As we have looked at places, I suggested we save some money and downgrade back to a 1-bedroom for the time being, since there isn't a baby on the way. Nathan said, "But what if we get pregnant in the next couple months and we are stuck with a 1-bedroom? You won't have a nursery to decorate!" I thought about it for a second and here's the conclusion I came to:

Who cares?

When I got pregnant with Maddie, a lot of really dumb things were important to me:
          -Being cute and not gaining too much weight
          -Having the cutest, pinteresty nursery
          -Having adorable outfits for her to wear all the time
          -Doing fun pregnancy updates on my blog
          -Finding the best "home coming" outfit
          -Getting her all the best and most popular books and toys
          -Planning out newborn photoshoots and what shots we should take in the hopsital
The list goes on and on, but you get the idea.

Not that I am a bad person. Believe me, I was the healthiest and most careful freaking pregnant lady in the world. Always ate all my fruits and veggies and vitamins. Did my pregnancy exercises every day. Cut out all the bad things from my diet. Wouldn't so much as rub lotion on my hands until I asked my doctor if it was pregnancy safe. (Which is all-the-more ironic that I lost my baby to a simple cord accident) But I cared way too much about the unimportant stuff as well.

Losing Madelyn turned my world up-side-down. I can never look at life the same, and that includes being pregnant and raising kids. All I can think about it how little I care what the nursery looks like if my baby is safe and healthy. Why would it matter if the baby slept in our room for the first year, if it meant that I got to raise that little thing? Why does it matter what the baby wears or what giant head bands I can put on her head? Why does it matter what fun, awesome, supermom, pinterest activities we do as long as the baby is healthy, alive, loved, and happy? Oh yeah, it doesn't matter. When did these things become so important?

I let myself get so caught up in the idea of having a baby, I didn't realize what's actually important. (Side-note: I don't think losing Maddie was any kind of punishment for being caught up in the wrong stuff, just FYI). I would give up the hundreds of cute little girl outfits still hanging in Madelyn's closet, if it meant I got to have her here with me. Heck, I'd share a room with her until she was 18 if it meant I got to have her here. The things I cared about seem so silly now that I can really see what matters most.

Now as I think about my future children, who I know will come to me soon, I think about a lot of other things:
          -How amazing will that feel to give birth and to hear a beautiful, healthy cry instead of a silent
            room?
          -I hope I get really fat and the baby comes out all happy and chunky.
          -I can't wait to sit and stare at my baby all day
          -I am so excited to see Nathan holding his baby
          -I can't wait to teach my baby about Christ.
          -I hope our baby gets Nathan's nose, and his patience and big heart.
          -I hope I can give my baby everything it needs.
          -I am gonna love this baby so freaking much.

I daydream about how things will be this second time around a lot. It will be harder and more beautiful at the same time. I can't wait.