little black journal

37 weeks today!  I am officially full-term.  And I’ve got the beach ball belly to prove it.

Shane and I have been snapping photos throughout the pregnancy, and today was a fun look back over the past eight months.  I can remember remarking how big I was getting at week 14, when my pre-pregnant jeans became too tight to wear.  And then telling Shane at week 20 that I was really popping out.  By week 28 I couldn’t imagine how I could possibly get any bigger (silly, silly me).

And…ka-bam!

There’s a part of me that longs for the days when I can lay on my stomach again and expand my wardrobe options beyond elastic-waist pants and side-ruched tank tops.  But there’s also a part of me that will miss this big ol’ belly.  It makes a great built-in tray for bowls of ice cream and glasses of sparkling water.  It has released me from my uncomfortable instinct to suck in my stomach when I’m standing in front of a crowd or posing for a photo (trying to appear thin is obviously futile at this point).  And so many strangers have been incredibly kind, encouraging me to keep on as I huff my way around the park, telling me I look great and inquiring about the gender of the baby as they bag my groceries.  A man at the bakery told me yesterday that my pregnant silhouette was absolutely beautiful, which I’m realizing now sounds a bit inappropriate, but in the moment, it made me feel like a million bucks.  Sure, there was that teenage girl who turned to her friends when I walked past her at Jefferson Park last week and said (rather loudly), “damn, that lady was huuuuge!”, but I’m willing to let that comment slide.  After all, she’s right.  I am big.  I’m round.  And I walk a little funny.  Because hot dang, I’m having a baby in roughly three weeks!