I’ve got some pretty bad pregnant blogger guilt right now, y’all. This is a time when I should be documenting everything, but instead my brain is full of things like stroller choices and pregnancy-friendly burlesque costumes. In my downtime, I’ll start a blog post and then inevitably end up on Buzzfeed* or reading A Feast for Crows.
Basically, I’ve seem to have some sort of gestational ADD.
So, let’s see. I’m currently at 29 weeks (!) but haven’t taken a belly photo in a while, so here’s my 24-week one. Imagine that plus five more weeks’ worth of gestating (and eating).
Shit ain’t getting any smaller.
Despite my fuzzy mental state, though, I have to admit I am one of those obnoxious women who loves being pregnant. Sure, I’ve been feeling the less-than-wonderful effects, too. My back and hips ache, my balance is off, I get out of breath if I talk too much, and some days there’s nothing I’d like more than to just drink an entire bottle of red wine. There are times that I’m ready to be done, ready to have an identity outside of “pregnant chick,” ready to meet this kid! But still, there’s just something so strange and exciting about walking around growing a future human in my belly. Maybe it’s the extrovert in me, but I can’t say I mind the attention it brings. People love to touch my belly. And I (usually) love it when they do. Because what’s better than having people lavish love on me and my daughter? People who’ve never met me think she’s wonderful and special. And I may be biased here, but she kind of is, right? She is new and fresh and nobody has ever been or will ever be quite like the person she will become.
A couple of months ago, late into a pre-holiday evening at the bar, our friend Jaime asked if she could talk to the baby. She bent low and spoke close, almost touching, next to my belly. It was loud at the bar and I couldn’t hear a word she said, but she must have said a lot because she was down there a while, and I found myself getting teary.
It’s humbling to see the love that’s already waiting out here for my kid. I wonder sometimes if she can sense it. Does she hear the many voices of the people who can’t wait to meet her, murmuring through my skin to her new ears? Can she feel the hands and arms and hugs lavished upon me? Does she hear it when her sweet papa speaks to her through my belly button, or plays her grandpa’s guitar for her? There are so many people who love her so much already. And me! I have no idea who she is or will be, but I already love her so ridiculously much. What a weird feeling it is to love someone you’ve never met.
Papa speaks into the baby-phone.
Maybe this is why I haven’t written much about pregnancy – it gets me all emotional and teary if I think about it too long. I’ve always been a tad on the mushy side; being knocked up just seems to have pushed me over the edge. Now it’s all puppies and rainbows and tiny little baby booties. Sheesh. I’m hopeless. You’ve ruined me, little baby. Soon I’ll start collecting Precious Moments figurines and it’ll all be over.
* I pretty much died while reading this one.
Everyone’s interpretation of “beach wear” was slightly different, which made for some damn good photo ops.
