Things I love about being pregnant

I am starting to get to that point where being the giver of life is getting uncomfortable. I have ginormous boobs, my hands and feet look like swollen little sausages by the end of the day, I’m constantly out of breath, my awkward shape and the urge to pee every two hours have created significant sleep challenges, my back and ribs hurt pretty much all the time...

But you know what?

I’ve never felt more perfect or beautiful in this body.

Despite whatever temporary discomfort the third trimester may hand me, I still adore everything about being pregnant. I still think this is the greatest privilege I’ll ever have in my life. I still think it is the most breathtakingly beautiful experience. I am still giddy about every stage of development as I watch my belly grow and grow and grow.

I can’t wait to meet my little boy, but at the same time I am savoring every moment of this very intimate 40 weeks of growing. It is nothing short of magical.

Here are a few of my favorite things about being pregnant:

I love the sheer miracle of the life I carry. It is astounding to think of all that happens in a nine month period as my child goes from a cluster of cells to a sentient creature who can sense the world around him, responds to my touch, voice and scent, and has all the systems in place to grow into a full sized person with a full volume of emotions and memories. Each week since he booked his wombside reservation, I have devoured readings on his developmental milestones. Each week, I have cheerfully proclaimed Baby Nelson is the size of a pea!, Baby Nelson is the size of a banana!, Baby Nelson can hear! Baby Nelson has fingerprints! Baby Nelson is learning to grip! Baby Nelson is establishing normal REM sleep cycles! Baby Nelson has teeth buds! White fat! Baby Nelson is getting white fat!...

I love watching Dan as he continues to grow into an amazing father. Each time he touches my belly, or gets down on his knees to talk to our son, or thanks me for being the mama of his child, or holds my hand as we dream of our new life, or talks about the things he will do with his “little buddy”, I continue to fall in love with him in new and deeper ways. Each day as we make this journey together, I feel more bonded to him as that sacred force of creating a life together changes us, both individually and as a couple. Though our love and friendship has evolved each day for the last ten and a half years, the experience of becoming parents together is something that alters the whole scope and depth of your relationship in ways you could have never imagined.  

I love all the people who smile at me. It’s a fact, our society loves pregnant women. I loved pregnant women before I was pregnant myself, and now that I am part of the club, I love them even more. There is something so cute and sweet about a woman waddling around with a baby in her belly that people can’t help but get schmoopy over. (Unless you’re one of those depressing crack-head moms at Wal-Mart...) I love walking down the street and seemingly making someone’s day, just by being a giant pregnant lady.

I love the protective instincts of those around me. At first, being told that I shouldn’t or couldn’t do things or having help and assistance offered to me was a very difficult pill to swallow. I am independent and bull-headed to a fault. I am one of those impossible personalities who feels like asking for help is a sign of failure because I am clearly smart enough and determined enough to do everything myself thankyouverymuch. I am pregnant, not a cripple. I need a nap, not a live-in assistant and a Hoveround.  (Breathe...) But, my pride has backed down enough for me to appreciate that people who tell me no or insist on helping me are doing so because they love me and care greatly for my child. Even if it’s a task that I am still capable of doing on my own, that sting of reproach is lessened by the knowledge that I have many who care for me in my “delicate state”.

I love being a jungle gym for my little guy. Was it only two months ago that I was having an emotional breakdown that I hadn’t felt him move yet? These days, he is a busy, busy little dude, and each week his jabs, rolls, cycling, and pushes have gotten stronger and more distinct. We hold our hands to his cozy nest and feel for his thumps and bumps and try to guess what body part just poked through. Sometimes, it’s just the pressure and a hard spot, which I imagine is his little rump as he stretches. Sometimes, it’s a sharp poke, which Dan guesses is an elbow. Sometimes, it’s a very clear little stump of a foot and I can’t help but get giddy as I think of sweet little baby toes kicking around in my belly. There is nothing I adore more at this stage than sitting or lying in silence and just feeling him cruise around. Sometimes it makes me cry and sometimes I’ll laugh out loud, but always, I am thrilled with his tumbling about.

I love how appreciative and gracious Dan is. These days, as I enter the giant, awkward and uncomfortable stage of being pregnant, Dan has been particularly delicate with me. He acknowledges my discomforts in a way that says both thank you and you are doing a great job. Also, I could not do that, which is a big, bright feather in my ego cap. If I have a day where I’m feeling less than sleek, he reminds me that he thinks I am beautiful. When I start getting tired, he encourages me to take a break. Sometimes I even listen. He makes me feel like a warrior of womanhood and, in the end, that’s all I ever really wanted to be when I grew up.

I love shopping. Let’s be honest here for a second. The baby doesn’t care if his nursery design boosted Pottery Barn’s 2010 profit margins. He doesn’t care if he’s swaddled in designer organic cotton. He won’t appreciate the agility and sleek design of his stroller. He won’t be able to read any of the books already stocked in his closet. His only plans for all of his adorable clothes with matching socks, hats and bibs are to poop or puke on them at least once. He has no interest in the consumer report and safety rating for his gigantic car seat. He will not have a preference for all natural bath products. All he cares about is a full tummy, being warm, having a clean pair of pants on, a cozy place to sleep, and getting lots of love from mom and dad. The rest of it is for us. Or, perhaps more accurately, for me. And boy, I’m having a lot of fun!

I love imagining who my son will be. The beautiful thing about making a life is the infinite possibilities each child enters the world with. With each step and each decision and each passion, he will shape who he is and who he will eventually become. We, as parents, help to guide him and provide him with the resources he needs to dream and accomplish, but ultimately, he will become his own man and our part will have only been to cheer him on as he made his way. I can’t wait to watch his personality develop. Will he be a passionate and stubborn child like his father and I were? Will he be easygoing? Will he seek out adventure? Will he be gregarious? Will he be curious? Will he give his mother grey hair with his antics and then make up for it all with just one sweet smile? (Hint: the answer to that last one is most certainly yes. He is a Nelson, after all.)

I love the excitement of waiting for his arrival. It will certainly become more pronounced as we continue to count down the weeks. It’s like Christmas morning multiplied by Disneyland multiplied by a surprise party and raised to the power of your wedding day. Pregnancy is a slow moving train with a guaranteed destination, but the arrival, our son’s very first birthday, is the greatest celebration I can imagine. I walk around his nursery opening drawers, touching all the neatly folded clothes and soft linens, staring at outfits hanging on tiny hangers, admiring stacks of blankets, and yes, even smiling at a basket of breast pads and I get big old bird sized butterflies thinking about when he will be here. Will he come at 38 weeks? 40? Will I be one of those brave but unfortunate souls who goes late? I imagine the first time I will hold his tiny hand and see his little toes curl. I dream of that first skin on skin moment with him as we finally meet each other face to face. I fantasize about stroking his head and kissing his tiny ears. I try to solidify the way those first moments will feel, knowing full well that even my best attempt to visualize his arrival will grossly pale in comparison to the actual event.

I love planning for our new life as a family. I’m not sure if it’s planning so much as it’s playing house in my mind, but I love thinking of all the things we will do together as a family. Most of them stem from the wonderful memories I have as a child and wanting to recreate that for my own children as they grow up. Christmas morning, first day of school, Friday movie nights, family vacations, Disneyland (obviously a whole stand alone category separate from other family vacations), finger painting, class field trips, sports and trophies, decorating sugar cookies, birthday parties, family dinners, camping, homework, growth charts, church, learning to ride a bike, trick or treating, coloring books, music lessons... each little piece of our new life excites me in ways that i can’t quite express.

I love my belly. I’m sure all pregnant women have those moments where they feel less than attractive with the cankles and the veiny boobs. I’m not immune to that. Though I’ve escaped stretch marks thus far (c’mon Hellum genes! You skipped me on some of the better family perks and gave me varicose veins, please grant me this one wish that I got the no stretch mark gene!), I’ve had to deal with pregnancy rosacea, flat  hair, and why, oh why, didn’t anyone tell me that you have to resort to larger underwear after 20 weeks? Though there is plenty to make a woman feel less than attractive, I have never felt anything but unadulterated self-love when I gaze adoringly at my belly. It is the most second most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen... number one goes to the kid who occupies it. I love my weird belly button. I love my faint linea nigra, and I love everything about the bulging alien that is my tummy. As it gets bigger, I fall more and more in love with it. It is the place where my child is growing. How could I not love it?

There is so much more that I love about being pregnant, but those are the highlights. What did you moms love about being prengnat and what did you miss the most after having your babies?

Comments

[Allison]

So cute :) I loved the preparation/nesting phase. I miss how calm and peaceful Kingston was in the womb. Xander was my massive nija-style kicker. I still have a sore spot in my rib cage where his foot was permanently lodged for the last 4 weeks of pregnancy (8 years later!!)

[gillian]

Loved reading this, H. :)

The very best part of pregnancy for me was feeling the babies move. The kicks and punches were fun and eventually everyone got to enjoy the acrobatics, but I mean the little squirmy motions, like they were just slightly shifting their position because their bum was going numb or something. It was subtle and intimate and all mine.

Once in a great while, even now, I'll feel a little bubble in my tummy and it's shockingly reminiscent of when my belly was occupied by other people and it startles me a second. And then I realize how much I miss it and how I'll not feel those baby motions ever again and it makes me want to cry a little.

But just for a second.

Because by then the kids have usually burst into the room, wrapped up in some inane argument and my reverie is shattered.

Argh.

Love you. You're already such an amazing mommy. :)

g

[Mom N]

I love being a women and having the joy of giving life to a child. The best days of my life are 1/17/1970 and 7/24/1980. God bless.