This post took me a ridiculously long time to write, considering the quality and the length. It’s whiny and probably will annoy many of you, but it’s real and I’ve found that writing honestly and openly to this community can be one of the most cathartic processes I can engage in. Who needs to pay for mental health counseling when one’s emotional issues can be aired on their blog?

Four years ago I got really fat. Stretch marks developed on my breasts (actually my chest has had stretch marks since high school), upper arms, lower back, love handles, around my belly button, throughout my thighs, and even behind my knees. My arms were jiggly, my thighs chafed together when I walked, my belly was soft and my face rounded out. I’d heard pregnant women complain about their bodies, and somehow I thought I would be largely immune to the frustration and low self-esteem because of my past experiences. I saw teeny tiny women develop breasts, round hips, and a sweet little basketball bump and I’d hear their complaints and write them off. “What are they complaining about?” I thought, “They knew their bodies would change when they got pregnant and they look beautiful and full. The pregnant body is marvelous.”

When we decided it was time for us to have a baby I thought I was prepared, and though I knew my body was going to change in ways slightly different than it had before, I thought the changes would be the kind I would revel in. My cup size would increase (I’ve heard husbands love that sort of thing), my hips would spread, and as the baby grew from a lentil to a cantaloupe to a watermelon I’d develop this sweet little round tummy right below my waist that I would want to show off at every available opportunity.

Unfortunately my experience has not been what I expected and I fear I’ve turned into a bit of a sad sad sally when those close to me inquire after my current emotional/physical well being. I feel pudgy and round and entirely-too-large for where I am in my pregnancy. I can see my face quickly filling out, the edges becoming soft and round, the one thing I didn’t want to see happening again, at least not until the very end. I don’t have a cute basketball bump as the area of my stomach above my belly button and below my breasts seems to be growing at the same rate as the area between my belly button and my pubic bone.I’ve been gaining weight at a rate of over two pounds per week, a much faster rate than any overweight-before-pregnancy woman should be achieving. I’m a typical lazy American that spends too much time at her computer, and each week that goes by I seem to find a new activity I might would engage in, if I could (DDR for example).

Overall I’m uncomfortable in my own skin, and I feel like I’m swelling up like a big balloon. Actually, after an indulgent Thanksgiving, I was blowing up like balloon. My legs and ankles felt so tight and puffy I worried they would literally burst open at any moment. Or maybe I was hoping they would burst open, then at least the pressure would be relieved.

Why am I feeling this way? I was so sure that my previous weight gain would dull the frustration of a changing body, but that has not been the case. It was dear sweet Katherine, a regular reader and commenter, who helped me really define why I was struggling so much with this comment. In particular these words stuck with me:

I think this whole weight-gain-during-pregnancy-talk represents two main concerns pregnant women have, a) the loss of their former figure (temporarily) and b) having to redefine & embrace a new figure every week and a new sense of self.

That’s it! I’m fine with losing my former figure, and I knew I would be, but it’s the pace of change that I can’t seem to adjust to. During college I gained 60 lbs but that happened over a period of about 3 years. In the past 5 months I’ve gained half that amount! Each week that passes presents new challenges, a body that feels like it looks completely different than it did before, and I’m having a hard time wrapping my head around it. I’ve not only had to redefine my understanding of what my pregnant body will look like when I’m “full term”, but also my first trimester body, my second trimester body, and all of those frustrating moments in between. I’ve had to learn to snuggle up to That Husband and leave my worries about what he may be thinking about this new version of his wife behind, because I can’t let those thoughts consume our time together. Sexy and beautiful can exist in more than one shape/form for me, but pregnancy really isn’t giving me the time I need to conceive that new definition of attractiveness. 40ish weeks is more than enough time to deal with the heartburn, nausea, fatigue, swelling, intrusive comments from strangers, manhandling of your belly by said strangers, and other common side-effects of pregnancy, but I do find myself wishing I could have a bit more time to cope emotionally with the changes in my appearance.

Of course I wouldn’t undo give this all up if the opportunity to go back and do things over again presented itself. The baby just kicked (just now, really!) and there is nothing I love more than feeling those squirms and wiggles through the day and the night. And thanks to Katherine ( and my friend Jill who coincidentally pointed out the same thing when I was getting my hair cut last week), I have a new mantra: I’ve lost it once before, I know I can do it again. For now I’ll just I’ll try to work on embracing this new version of me and navigating the transition from woman/wife into woman/wife/mother. It’ll be good practice for all of that transitioning I’ll have to undergo once baby is alive and kickin’ outside of my belly.

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