Tuesday, January 6, 2009
All Knocked Up and No Place to Go
Knocked-up. Preggers. Bun in the oven. The rabbit died. With child. In a family way. Yep, it's all true. I think "knocked-up" is my favorite, and I have been using it ever since I started telling people about my pregnancy a month or two ago.
I waited-out the first three months of my maternal state without telling anyone other than The Mister (who I had been trying to tell even before I got pregnant) and my sister (who I knew would notice my changed drinking habits and make a deal of it unless I gave her a heads up beforehand). It was brutal. There I was, excited to be a mom and share my news with anyone and everyone, and I chose to keep my mouth shut. Honestly, after hearing horror stories of women practically embarking on national ad campaigns to announce their pregnancies only to have to undo it after miscarrying within the first trimester, I am glad I did what I did. But those three months were kinda miserable.
On the one hand it was wonderfully fun to have a secret that just The Mister and me were in on, but I felt like I was lying to everyone else in my life. This was compounded by the fact that I had terrible symptoms that I could not explain without spilling my baby beans. My face broke out like Mount Vesuvius and my ass, not to be outdone by the bumpy beacon of my face decided (with the help of ice cream and candy corn) to stretch past the bounds of hot "baby got back" plumpness to "is she carrying a baby in her butt?" hugeness. I got downright fat. And not in a cute "Oh, look at me! I am a celebrity with chicken legs and a nice round baby bump" kinda way. All over fat from my pudgy acne strewn face to my body's own personal attempt at cankles. Needless to say, all of this left me feeling pretty un-sexy.
I spent a good part of the first trimester of my pregnancy as a recluse. I was embarrassed by my changing appearance, and I doubted I could keep from blurting out my news, if not out of sheer excitement, then in defense of my bumpy-faced, lumpy-assed self. I went to the gym and the supermarket, but found myself avoiding social time with my friends. I stayed home and slept a lot.
Now that I am just over four months into this whole procreation experiment, I am trying to find the sexy in pregnancy. I have friends who gush about how their libido went through the roof while they were "brimming with child." These same friends and others claim that they loved having big, round pregnant bodies. I decided I would be happier if I at least aimed for this instead of spending the whole nine months mourning the loss of my washboard abs. I've been reading all kinds of books about how a mother's mental state during pregnancy can impact her child for the rest of his or her life. I don't want my offspring to obsess about the size of her* ass or constantly be concerned about how others might view her; I've spent the last thirty or so years doing enough of that crap for both of us.
The four month mark has been a turning point for me. As I started to tell people about my pregnancy, my hormones decided to even out thus evening out the texture of my formerly bumpy face. I am still fat, but my boobs are pretty amazing (for me anyway). I have never had boobs to speak of, or a belly for that matter, and I am enjoying stroking both. Much to my satisfaction and delight, my "huge" boobs are busting out of my A cups. Just as I have dreamed of since grade school, my cups runneth over -- wishes really do come true! What a waste it would be to fail to enjoy my temporarily engorged breasts. I better make the most of this cleavage while it lasts; I can't imagine my offspring wanting to breastfeed well beyond puberty. And a belly? I must give myself credit for having had a fairly flat stomach for most of my adult life. It has always been one of my favorite body parts. I am at a point now where I can no longer suck it in. It still sticks out, even when I lie on my back. I better enjoy that, too, because come June it's hello sit-ups and goodbye bump.
Pregnancy, like most things, is temporary. I am inspired to relish every moment that I have left. Hello tight shirt and push-up bra. Hello bellybutton poking out from beneath that tight shirt. I am knocked-up, and I am going places.
*Yesterday's ultrasound showed that my womb is, in fact, inhabited by a healthy and active baby girl.Labels: body image, boobs, rant
tidbit posted by Mosa @ 8:21 AM
