Pregnancy is such an magical process. One day your body is it's own, strong and flexible and energetic. Suddenly it becomes a vessel for a tiny idea, a promise months from becoming reality. Your body swells and changes shape, still hiding a treasure that it feeds and protects, encouraging it to develop and grow. And suddenly in a act of true strength and physical endurance, it opens to allow this tiny idea to become a reality. And even after your body no longer carries this treasure in it's cocoon, your body still provides it food and comfort as it returns to it's more normal shape.
I want to say being pregnant is one of the best times of my life. I want to say I feel strong and beautiful and sensual. I want to say I'm proud of my body for being able to accomplish this wonderful act of creation, to grow and nourish and change. Unfortunately the way I feel is mainly tired and full and unattractive. I feel ashamed of my stretch marks and uncomfortable in my own changing shape.
Today at a birthday party I reconnected with a wonderful girl full of love and excitement and energy. She's also a doula. She reminded me what a fantastic adventure the next 20 weeks (and beyond) should be. How amazing and natural this process is. And I'm trying to remember. I want to remember.