Dear Growing Baby of Mine,
This morning I stood hesitantly and fully bloated on my bathroom scale, and though I dreaded looking down at the numbers, I finally did. I gotta tell you, it was worse than I expected, and as I tallied in my head the total weight gained since your arrival to my womb, my shock turned to resignation.
I was pretty sure my gain exceeded current recommendations. I stood staring naked at the mirror, and at my growing body mass. Yet all I noticed at the time, what really stood out to me in my reflection, was my rounded belly. A slightly brown line swept up my abdomen, and like Cupid’s arrow it pointed directly at my heart. I found that fitting since you already held a place there.
I knew then I didn’t mind the weight so much. I mean, I did, but I knew it was of little consequence in the grand scheme. After all, you’re number three, and if experience had taught me anything, it certainly set priorities straight.
After my eldest daughter’s arrival I found myself for the first time to be what I considered overweight, but also more in love than I had ever known. After some struggle the weight slid off, and just in time to have another.
After my second daughter I noticed I had to work a good bit harder to try and achieve my pre-pregnancy weight, and even after it came off stubbornly I didn’t miss the changes left behind.
Sagging in places I never sagged before, and new lines that ran like a roadmap across my hips and thighs. Feet miraculously a size larger than before, new, additional freckles and moles to sprinkle amongst the varicose veins.
Of course more wrinkles framing my face, and I’ll bet more gray hairs if I’d ever give them a chance to see the light of day. And all that before I even held you inside me.
I discovered right away with your oldest sister that pregnancy was a chore, and with the second go-round I felt the pain of childbearing even more, but it’s different with you. Honestly, this time has been harder. I’ve hurt more, ached easier, and felt a level of fatigue I didn’t realize was possible. Yet…
I smile. I smile at the growing numbers on the scale, and I smile even as I rub cocoa butter on my belly in vain. I smile as my hips spread, and even as I remove another ring due to the swelling of my fingers. I smile.
I smile because I know. I know that whatever discomfort I feel as you stretch my womb to optimum capacity, that you are growing in preparation to fill my arms and heart with more love, and in that I can count my pain as joy.
I smile even as I fight to fall asleep, changing positions over and over searching for one of comfort, and trudging back and forth to the bathroom once again to relieve my crowded bladder.
I smile because you’re worth it.
You’re worth every sleepless night, every ache, every stretch mark, and every stubborn pound. You’re worth it.
I actually cherish this time that you grow inside me, and though it changes my body forever, and even though it takes so much from me, I know what it is building up to. It is preparing my heart to be stretched again to capacity, to feel more love that I humanly deserve to receive, yet it is still given to me.
You are given to me. And you’re worth it. In fact, you’re more than worth it.
Love,
Mommy
P.S. See you soon.
Denise says
Brie.. What is your due date? I am so excited for you! Beautifully written.?
brieann.rn@gmail.com says
Thank you! December 15th.