Inner Beauty

My belly is, at best, very rotund and, at worst, mottled and splotchy with stretching.
I still have not filled the gap that my lost baby tooth left.
My face is taking on the pregnancy puff, which is why my hair is still long and driving me nuts, tempting me to cut it.
Despite my husband’s deepest reassurances, my butt is pregnancy-big.
I am up 30 pounds.
I make a concentrated effort not to waddle, but a full bladder and sciatic nerve pain down my left leg sometimes make that difficult.
Even on my best non-pregnant days, I often struggle with self image.
Whilst third trimester pregnant, it is a daily, losing battle.

But even when my voice, upon seeing myself in the mirror, tells me differently:
That little face that brightens upon seeing me at the end of the day makes me feel beautiful.
Those soft little lips kissing me repeatedly make me feel beautiful.
The bathtime giggles together make me feel beautiful
Bedtime conversations that start with “tell me bout da” make me feel beautiful.
The whispered “I wuv you, so bery much” makes me feel beautiful.
Being a mother makes me feel beautiful.



Update at 32 weeks

I love the visit right after the one with the glucose test because you get all sorts of great news, like "your iron's normal" and "you passed the diabetes test with flying colors" and "it's time to pre-register at the hospital" and "you're winning the stretch mark war" and "baby's locked and loaded in the head down position". {See why I'm gonna miss my doc?}

In other news, I think this baby gets an inordinate amount of the hiccups. It's very fun and funny now, but may not be if it continues after he's born.

Also, with the heat comes the swelling. {Howdy there, 90 degree weather!} So, I bought my feet some raspberry colored crocs to compensate. So there.

Also, baby's suddenly slowed down movement-wise in the last few days and I'm wondering what that's all about.

And, oh holy night (!), I woke up with acid in my mouth last night! The kind you only get after you throw up. Which I have not done since I was - oh - about 12. So, I can only devise that this means my belly is now expanding UPwards and crushing my poor esophagus. {Hooray!}

I'm finding it surreal that I am down to single digits left now: just 8 (or less) weeks to go now! {Or, as I told my doc, "the train is coming in to the station".} I can't distinguish between whether my obsession over whether this baby will be early or not is a premonition or just a fear. . . . but I keep telling myself to pack a hospital bag (or three) just in case. In any case, I'd be good with having a Taurus.


"May you be in love every day for the next 20,000 days. And out of that love, remake a world." -Ray Bradbury