Your cart is currently empty!
I Just Don’t See the Charm in a Fancy Nursery, Yet I Can’t Help Feeling Envious I Didn’t Have One
It was absolutely stunning. The colors were a delicate mix of beige, white, and a soft blush pink. The window was adorned with pastel bunting, the armchair was plush and rockable, and the crib perfectly matched the whole aesthetic. It seemed like she waited for the light to hit just right, capturing that ethereal glow. This nursery had clearly emerged from the depths of Pinterest to become a reality. I stumbled upon it during an early morning scroll through Facebook, chuckled at the new parents and their free time, and then felt a wave of jealousy wash over me.
I mean, she had a crib. We didn’t have a crib—matching or otherwise. We knew from the start that our baby would be sleeping with us, so we attached a co-sleeper to our queen-sized bed in our cluttered, non-Pinterest-worthy master bedroom.
We opted for cloth diapers, so there was no adorable diaper cake at our baby shower. In fact, we didn’t even have a baby shower, considering we lived far from family and all our friends were broke grad students. We did convert an Ethan Allen wet bar into a changing table, but that was more about functionality than cuteness. Nothing matched, not even the battered rocker we bought on sale at Ye Olde Baby Big Box Store. We just crammed all the baby stuff into a room that happened to be yellow and didn’t get a fresh coat of paint, along with a dresser from a late aunt and some Dr. Seuss decals.
I know we made the right choices for our situation. I’m not one to fuss over Pinterest aesthetics, and I find ribbons nauseating. Plus, spending money on a full baby bedding set seemed absurd. Yet, I still find myself longing for that picture-perfect pregnancy and my son’s not-so-perfect babyhood. That longing manifests as a fiery jealousy. Perfect nurseries make my blood boil. Diaper cakes? Don’t get me started.
My pregnancy was anything but Pinterest-worthy. I dealt with morning sickness and suffered from prenatal anxiety and depression, often choking on panic attacks while sipping on Chick-Fil-A sweet tea. With that chaos, along with a midwife urging me to monitor my blood sugar, I never experienced that so-called pregnancy “glow.”
And I know I’m not alone. Just type “percentage of people who hate being pregnant” into Google and prepare for a journey through a minefield of shared misery. There are countless articles discussing why women need to voice their struggles, tips for coping, and even a piece titled “Pregnant and Miserable: Prenatal Depression.” According to the American Congress of Obstetricians and Gynecologists, “between 14-23% of women will struggle with some symptoms of depression during pregnancy.” That’s a significant number of women who aren’t exactly in the mood for designing a nursery, let alone being the star of a baby shower.
But then, once the depression fades or is treated, you find yourself holding your baby and wondering why you didn’t create that dreamy nursery. The radiant glow on another mother’s face can feel like a smug reminder of your own less glamorous experience. She glows; you don’t. You didn’t post those heart-filled Facebook updates with images of blowing curtains and perfectly arranged baby toys. As a seasoned mom, you know those toys will hardly get played with. But the theme? You had no theme. You didn’t even have a color scheme. Like many, you tossed things into a room and hoped for the best.
I understand that life isn’t as polished as social media makes it seem. That beautiful nursery will soon be marked by baby poop, spit-up, and other delightful messes. The mom will find herself leaking milk onto that pristine white rocker, whether she’s breastfeeding or not. The baby will cry, and she’ll repeatedly go to the crib. A Pinterest-perfect nursery won’t shield her from the daily grind of parenting. She might dress her baby in an immaculate outfit complete with a bow the size of the baby’s head, only for the little one to seize that moment to unleash a diaper disaster. I take some comfort in knowing this happens to all of us.
Yet, part of me will always feel a twinge of sadness for not having that Pinterest nursery. It symbolizes that fleeting moment when parenthood seems like a perfect dream: feeling gentle kicks from the baby as you fantasize about tea parties, mother-daughter outings, oversized bows, and rainbow tutus. It’s that hopeful threshold into the adventure of parenting, filled with joy and the calm of pastel hues.
Some parents get those moments; some don’t. Those of us who missed out have every right to feel envious, even if it’s uncomfortable and painful. So, let that envy flow. Just remember, it reflects your journey, not the manicured nursery you see online.
For more insights about home insemination, check out this post or visit Make a Mom for expert advice on family planning. If you’re seeking reliable information about pregnancy, Hopkins Medicine offers great resources to help you navigate this journey.
Summary
This article reflects on the contrasting experiences of pregnancy and motherhood, highlighting the envy that can arise from seeing perfect nurseries online while grappling with the messy realities of parenting. It acknowledges the struggles many women face during pregnancy and encourages a sense of camaraderie among those who feel left out of the picture-perfect moments.