First of all, Daughter of Mine, I can only hope that you have my innate desire to never wear a belly shirt no matter how in style they are. (Seriously, how are belly shirts allowed to be in style again?)
Secondly, I find it ironically hilarious how many shirts I was certain would fit me throughout pregnancy. “These are my loose, billowy tops,” I’d said, dreaming of filling up the stylish extra space with a baby bump. A few drapey yoga tops lasted until about the 6th month, but now…no way. They cannot cover The Bump; rather, there’s a slight draft
at my waistline ( wherever the heck that is right now…) at the bottom of my belly which I cannot see, but the breeze seems to find it. I have a few zip ups that I can still …well…zip up over The Bump, but they are a good 3 inches from covering my entire belly. Layers are required.
I finally broke down and ordered a slew of maternity tank tops that I could wear for yoga, to the gym (so I just didn’t look like that grungy-topped woman who seemed to get chubbier every week…), and underneath the lovely belly zip-ups.
I *literally* have an entirely new wardrobe. I did not see this coming. I can already laugh at my naïvety.
Thirdly, Little Girl, I adore you. I imagine what you must be hearing and thinking, why you’re kicking and squirming and dancing and perfecting downward facing dog at such a young age. I am in love with your every move. In the middle of conversations, or your daddy’s sermons, or out to dinner, I’ll just stop and stare at my belly watching its wave-like rhythms as you rock and roll. I never tire of it.
I must confess, with shock and disappointment, I am not a lover of pregnancy. This is HARD WORK. It’s especially hard if you’re a control freak like me who is experiencing physical and emotional and lifestyle changes occurring without her permission. I do not love knowing what heartburn is after almost 30 blissful years without that fire in my throat. I do not love having to catch my breath while singing or talking. I do not love fighting cankles. I do not love sleeping with extra pillows or chomping on Tums or buying new coats to fit my uncontrollable girth.
I do not love missing another season of Fall running. I crave these 45 degree runs with the crisp air and the autumn skies, the brilliant colors and the inspiration to run extra miles. I am passionate about runs in the Fall. Maybe next year I’ll take you with me? At least I can still go for walks on our country roads. Sure, I can barely make it back in time for the bathroom, but it’s a good thing for my psyche and my physique to get out and power walk as much as possible. (TMI side note…the bladder issues of pregnancy are probably the main reason I am incapable of running. Holy Moses, just no.)
These recent weeks have been the “glory days” of pregnancy, though. Mostly because strangers can tell I’m pregnant and the kids I’m subbing for tell me how beautiful I am and everyone seems to point out the infamous “pregnancy glow.” All of those symptoms and side effects are relatively minor and I’m relishing in the few days or weeks I have left before I want to say, “Enough is enough. Come on out Baby Girl.”
Despite all of the things I don’t like about being pregnant, I am overjoyed and totally honored that God called me to motherhood. I am crazy excited to meet you and snuggle you and smell your baby head. I am terrified and exhilarated knowing our lives are about to change for good in a few weeks. May God anoint you even now with his grace, Little Girl. Psalm 139:13-16 (NET)
Certainly you made my mind and heart; you wove me together in my mother’s womb. I will give you thanks because your deeds are awesome and amazing. You knew me thoroughly; my bones were not hidden from you, when I was made in secret and sewed together in the depths of the earth. Your eyes saw me when I was inside the womb. All the days ordained for me were recorded in your scroll before one of them came into existence.