25 weeks

here i am over halfway through this pregnancy...less than seventeen weeks left of this sweet girl and i sharing one body.

and ohhh how i am struggling with this here body of mine this time around. my swollen, bulging belly, pressing down on every organ as if they might burst. i find myself walking about holding my hand below the waist of my pants hoping i could truly support and ease the pressure even a little.

i thumb through wooden hangers in the closet just to rip another shirt off and leave it in a pile with the others, discouraged by how it hangs and clings in all the wrong places. it's unflattering--or--it shows the maternity band on my jeans and now that's just really attractive, isn't it?


i've never been one to really struggle immensely with body image. i tend to think most women do in some form or another. of course there have been days in my past before babies that i would stare a little longer in the mirror, at various angles, followed by the eye-roll, whatever and just walking away.

but this, this is different. this is different from then, this is different from my first pregnancy with hadley. i was comfortable in my body then. even while pregnant the first time around, i was comfortable. i felt good, i felt me, i had confidence in walking out the door.

there is nothing quite like laying in a tub, your daughter playing at your feet--your second dancing in your womb--just soaking in one moment and the next stepping foot out on the bath mat staring at yourself in the mirror, erupting in a fit of emotion, old mascara staining cheeks.

the beauty of life and giving life and bringing forth life, right smack next to me: hating my body. it's quite a contrast. it's quite ironic. i feel as if i should love this body of mine, celebrate it, be thanking the lord for making me woman: strong, powerful, giver of life (well, second to him anyway). and in so many ways i do love it.

however, the other day i posted on INSTAGRAM a photo of me and my belly. i recently decided to take capturing milestones more seriously (you can read more about that in MY LAST POST) especially when it comes to being pregnant. i have hardly any photos of when i was pregnant with hadley and it's something i really regret.

back to the point...when i posted THAT PHOTO, i was overwhelmed by the wonderful, uplifting comments like you do pregnancy so well, i wish i looked like that!

really? because lately all i have wanted to do is crawl out of this skin and back into my old shell--you know--the pre-nursing-sag, pre-ribcage-expansion, pre-sciatic-pain, pre-tiger-stripes.

but you're bringing forth new life. it's a miracle!

yes, yes and amen. but it's hard. and i'm struggling and i'm working on a mindset change.

but there is already enough mom guilt in the world. there is already enough feeling shame for this or that: one, because of society; and two, because we are way too hard on ourselves.

maybe it's okay that right now in this moment i don't love my body. maybe it's okay that i feel like i may explode or my center of gravity will pull me right down, flat on my face, while i'm out and about running errands.

while i'm no where near where i want to be as far as loving what i see in the mirror, i love what is happening inside of me. it brings me the greatest joy. and that makes all of this worth it.

there is only seventeen more weeks of this precious one being cuddled up right under my heart. and for that i will celebrate this body. this body that has cultivated--now--two lives.

i don't need to feel pretty, i don't need to feel comfortable because this season of sharing this shell (as that's really all it is) isn't about me.

if you're still with me--hi mom!--i am going to sum it up here real quick: you are not your body. you are your soul who just happens to have a body right now. so if you don't love that body of yours, well shucks.

it's okay.

you are not your age
nor the size of clothes you wear,
you are not a weight,
or the colour of your hair.
you are not your name,
or the dimples in your cheeks,
you are all the books you read,
and all the words you speak,
you are the croaky morning voice,
and the smiles you try to hide,
you're the sweetness in your laughter,
and every tear you've cried,
you're the songs you sing so loudly,
when you know you're all alone,
you're the places that you've been to,
and the one that you call home,
you're the things that you believe in,
and the people that you love,
you're the photos in your bedroom,
and the future you dream of,
you're made of so much beauty,
but it seems that you forgot,
when you decided you were defined,
by all the things you're not.

- e.h.