On the Last Pedicure Before Parenthood
I never thought this would be so bittersweet. I was thoroughly excited about my last mani-pedi appointment before birth. But here I am, jazz music in the background, fall breeze drifting through my favorite salon doors, opting out of the color I really wanted because who knows when the next pedicure will be?
Image and Art by Sarah Elle, Prose Club
The last time I was in this position was weeks after our wedding. I made it through the entire first trimester with my wedding nails, so here I am, crossing my no-longer-manicured fingers that this postpartum-prep pedicure lasts me just as long.
I’m less mournful about taking off my gels. I kept my manicures short throughout the summer so I wouldn’t be totally shocked by my natural nails when the time came to take them off. I write a lot about being a self-proclaimed nail girly, and my last article was all about what I’ll be doing to have an influencer postpartum. But even I draw the line somewhere, and a fresh set for newborn life falls on the other side of it.
All the women around me are getting their chocolate browns and burgundy reds for the change of season, yet here I am opting (once again) for old faithful: the French pedicure.
If circumstances get dire, I can always file off the white tips and pass it off as a nude-colored pedi. The reds and browns I was drawn to in August (read “Is August the New September?”) might grow out before I’m physically and mentally ready to leave the baby for my next appointment. So, neutrals it is.
Image and Art by Sarah Elle, Prose Club
I asked the nail tech to do her mighty best on my toes—after all, they’re walking into an entirely new era of life in a few short days.
I really did wait until the last possible minute to book this appointment. We’re scheduled to meet our baby in less than 72 hours, and I’m pushing my luck with the possibility of my water breaking before then. I wanted my toes to be as fresh as possible for the surgeons who will be face-to-feet with me during my C-section. I’ve been staying shaved and showered lately—you know, just in case—but shamelessly rocking my cracked baby shower nails for weeks while waiting for the last possible opportunity to book my final pre-baby appointment.
I admit, though, I cut it real close. I’ve been getting daily contractions, the kind that not even a nail-salon electric chair can fix. Most mornings, I wonder if this is the 5-1-1 they talk about before calling 9-1-1. The contractions are intense, very close together…and extremely deceitful. But now that my toes are painted, baby can book us in!
I keep asking myself: How did I manage to put this off for so long? I guess my logic was “the fresher, the better,” and the Lord was on my side for this one. After all, boy-mom life demands a new level of dedication to preserving your femininity, and if I’m already cutting it this close before birth, it’s going to take an act of God to get me to the next appointment. Maybe I’ll treat it like the six-week follow-up with the OB-GYN. My six-week evaluation will be mental, medical, and… manicured.
Ahhhh, it’s time for the L’Occitane Karité scrub—the best part of my overpriced pedicure.
I close my eyes and type, “This is the appointment I needed.”
It’s the middle of the week, and the salon is practically empty. There’s nothing but jazz and the sound of nail files in the background, and the decor finally reflects the season we’re in…and the one I’m about to enter. Perhaps this is exactly the amount of laid-back luxury I needed before labor and delivery.
Image and Art by Sarah Elle, Prose Club
Boy, am I going to miss this place. I’ll be a different woman the next time I sit in this chair. A woman shaped and filed by motherhood. Maybe that’s what makes this last pre-baby appointment so satisfying and…bittersweet.
I can only anticipate what these new toes will walk me through. I look down at my nail tech, who is absolutely “nail-ing” the French tip. I’ve never seen a white line so crisp—it must be a sign of good things to come.
She will oil my feet after the hot towels. One of my favorite parts of the appointment is waddling to the manicure chair while sliding in my flip-flops. The oil is so fragrant and luxurious, but man, do I fight for my life to get to that chair.
With that being said and sealed under the curing light, I’m going to enjoy this final foot massage before it passes me by.
I thought I booked this appointment for the French tips. I think I really needed one last hour to sit still and feel the life I’m about to step into. Before I know it, this polish will be chipped, and the familiar smell of acetone and nail dust will be replaced by the smell of my newborn baby’s head.
I’ll still have these toes when I bring him home. And I’ll look down at them during those 3 a.m. feeds and remember this quiet afternoon: the jazz, the fall air, the hot towels, and how strange it felt to know that everything was about to change while someone painted a perfect white line across my toes.
Whatever happens next, at least I can say I put my best foot forward…
With polished regards,
Sarah Elle
