Week 15

Dear baby,

I’m not gonna lie. Yesterday I had a minor melt-down.

All the books and all the experts and all the women in the whole world who have ever had a baby or looked at one before tell me – it’s normal. It’s hormones.

I just want to say upfront and centre, right now:

“there is nothing in the world I would rather be right now than pregnant with you”

Nothing. And I mean that truly. But despite how blessed I feel, how incredibly magical and exciting it is, and how I would literally die before I let anything happen to you – being pregnant is definitely not a picnic in the park. As I’m sure it’s not for you either (apparently you can swallow now, baby, which basically means you are now slurping on the blood and mucus inside my womb. Poor little mite).

But I’m not so sure I want to blame this meltdown on my hormones. My hormones are doing everything right – telling my body how best to work, so that you can properly develop. I love my hormones.

It’s the physical stuff.

My body and its functions are changing every single day. Which is mostly amazing! But sometimes it’s overwhelming too. I can only trust that you are ok in there, and trust that the changes to me are right for you. I look at myself and have a newfound connection with my body but, at the same time, a realisation that I don’t just belong to myself now. I belong to you too. And also to your daddy. It’s like I am this huge body organ keeping you both together – and mostly that is an incredible feeling, but some days I just want to close all my windows and hide inside with you. Quietly. Just watching you.

I feel like a passenger in my own body. But I guess that’s how you feel too. So that’s kinda nice.

So anyway. I got home from work yesterday and found myself stepping across – the line. The dreaded line that took me from a hungry, sleepy, slightly swollen pregnant woman who is happily in her 2nd trimester – to a crazed woman who couldn’t imagine any kind of comfort that didn’t involve ripping off all my skin and sticking a pin in my bum to let the excess gas out. Whilst eating a cheeseburger.

I have been coping so well for the last 3+ months, I have to say. Trusting my body, embracing every change and going with the flow. And, despite all the changes and the discomforts, I’ve really been enjoying it all. I’ve felt all mother earth – waltzing around, stroking my belly, with a deep sense that the whole universe is inside of me. But for some reason, yesterday there was a bump in the happy road I walked along. A big ugly bump that said “hey you, Mrs Smug, think pregnancy is enjoyable huh?” And then I slammed into some kind of invisible wall, that poked fun at me.

I curled my arms around my tummy, muttered something inaudible to your daddy, and slumped up the stairs before collapsing in a flood of tears on the bed.

And to be honest, it’s really not the hormones, or the physical changes, or the discomforts, or sharing my body, or the concerns that I am keeping you safe. It’s… (here it comes baby)… it’s because I don’t feel very pretty at the moment.

There I said it. With everything going on, all of these incredibly important things that my body is doing – developing you – I’m mostly worried and completely overwhelmed about the fact that I don’t look very pretty at the moment and none of my clothes fit. I feel frumpy and clumsy and yuk. I get fatter by the day, whilst your daddy gets fitter and more handsome.

And you know what your daddy did? He came up the stairs to see me and he held my hand whilst I was crying. I told him I felt sad because I am fed up of feeling tired, and slow, and fat and not having enough energy to exercise my body like I used to, and feeling like my body is doing its own thing and I have no control over it, and that I’m ugly.

He kissed me and cuddled me, and even though he smelt really yukky after being outdoors all day long, I let him. He told me how well I have been doing with everything, and how proud he is of me. That all day long he thinks about me and that he knows I am going to be a wonderful mum.

When we fell to sleep that night he told me I am more beautiful to him today than when we first had met. Baby – that was 7 years ago. Back then, I was 23, size 8, toned, tanned, with long golden blonde hair. Granted, on our Wedding Day 5 months ago I didn’t look too different… but I definitely don’t look the same today. But you know what baby? I believed him. Because he meant it. And the little thing that is even better than feeling the love he has for me, is that he is able to make me feel more beautiful everyday too.

He told me that I am allowed to feel overwhelmed. And I fell asleep feeling ok with everything again.

You are so lucky to have him as your daddy, baby. He is the best.

I would die for the both of you – but seeing as that isn’t a very good idea, I will live for the both of you instead.


Your mumma


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