This is not my bellybutton.
This is not my belly.
These are not my hips.
I don't even want to talk about my backside.
This body is a completely foreign entity to me. I don't know who I'm looking at in the mirror. What happened to my innie? What happened to my waist?
Pregnancy. Daily applications of vitamin E cream and aloe to keep the stretch marks at bay (I hope.) Label reading and nutrition balance calculating and cramming myself full of water to keep baby healthy. Drifting off to sleep on the couch before Bones is over because I'm too tired not to. Sleeping in, going to bed early, cancelling plans.
I'm a living, breathing, walking (well, waddling) baby incubator. My body is no longer my body, it is a house. A rather large house for a tiny little human. I love her, but I miss my body being my own.
Pregnancy kind of sucks.
I'm tired all the time, sore all the time, full all the time. While I'm grateful for this beautiful little miracle growing inside me, I'm also quite fed up - and I have 18 weeks to go, at least.
People keep telling me to wait, I'll get bigger, my back will ache even more, I'll see! Just wait! Can't I just be tired of it already? I'll see it through, don't worry. I just miss doing my own thing, like pouring myself a glass of wine or eating cold cuts without having to worry about hurting my baby. I miss jogging. Really. Jogging.
It's all worth it. I already know that with every little kick from my baby girl. But sometimes I just wish I could take off the pregnant lady hat and just be me again.
So there you have it; Pregnancy Truth #452. Your body is no longer yours. You are now a houseboat.
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