I’m struggling accepting that my body is no longer my own body. Like really struggling. Last night, as I was getting ready for bed I noticed a glistening white lightening bolt on my tummy. A stretch mark trying to make its appearance. The tears started streaming down my face as I climbed into bed. Kevin, probably fearful that his pregnant wife was about to flip out about something totally irrational, asked me what was wrong. I explained to him how I just felt so huge now. So fat. How I’ve never felt more unattractive. How I look like I’ve just hit puberty with the oil spills and acne I have. How I have a stretch mark trying to show up without an invite to this party and I’m essentially a baby elephant. How I haven’t slept in like 3 days because I sneezed so hard that I thought I broke a rib (it’s actually an intercostal rib muscle pull) and can’t get comfortable between that and the dance party on my bladder between 12a-5a. I then started crying about how I’m not allowed to complain either because we’d been trying for so long and so many women wanted the “problems” I’m having. (I’m really not complaining – I’m just having this mental battle of feeling giant when I’ve spent the last 3.5 years trying my damnedest not to be.)
My body isn’t mine currently – it’s this baby girl’s cocoon to grow and thrive for another 16’ish weeks. And that’s perfectly okay, it’s just definitely more of a mental adjustment then I think I was anticipating.
I’m definitely feeling insecure about my appearance, which I hate. I can’t determine if people are looking at me because they think I’m just grotesquely large or if it’s because I actually look pregnant now. I rub my belly, hoping to help sway them to the pregnancy option. People tell me I’m “glowing” and I’m fairly certain that’s just another way of saying your face looks fat. Everyone tells me how great I look, but I’m positive that’s because you have to tell pregnant women that. It’s the same way I feel when people would tell me “you’ve lost weight!” It’s obligatory when they know you’re trying. I guess I’m a pregnancy compliment skeptic.
I miss the body in the Little Black Dress, but at the end of the day I love what this body is doing. It’s creating an absolute masterpiece. I feel her moving all the time and it’s absolutely incredible. She responds to her Daddy’s touch. She’s already my world. So, as lousy as I feel about myself, it’s all worth it. And I just need to keep reminding myself of that.