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Week 20: Cute or nah?

Week 20: Cute or nah?

There is one phrase everyone likes to say to a pregnant woman, usually out of politeness or nervousness of not knowing how to interact with a human growing another human—because it’s a tad alien to some, I guess. This phrase is, “Blah, blah, blah … cute!” The word cute could probably sum up many of...

There is one phrase everyone likes to say to a pregnant woman, usually out of politeness or nervousness of not knowing how to interact with a human growing another human—because it’s a tad alien to some, I guess. This phrase is, “Blah, blah, blah … cute!” The word cute could probably sum up many of my conversations about anything baby. People will week20tell you your freakishly swollen feet are cute, your excessive yawning is cute, and the peach fuzz growing all over your stomach is cute. They will even tell you you’re cute when you are stuffing your face with food … because you’re feeding the baby, and that’s cute!
I’m thankful for this unwritten rule of all-things-pregnant being acceptable because it excuses a handful of things I am personally judging myself for. First and foremost is the mid-way pudge I’ve got going on. My belly is hard and a little weighted, but it’s still pretty normal. I have a theory she is growing in my boobs—now that is an area that has seen some extreme expansion! I look like I could topple over and often times do, thanks to my great sense of balance these days.
This “belly” I sort of have is manageable until I try to wear pants. Before I start on that one, let me just say I am too cheap for maternity clothes. I have friends due the same time I am who bought maternity jeans like yesterday. I was determined to make every effort to make it work with what I’ve got and avoid the maternity section. I thought leggings could be my best friend, and I would live in maxi dresses the last trimester (since she is due in June). Wrong, so wrong.
week20bDo you know what is happening? Camel-toes and fallen zippers. Sexy! When I wear the leggings, I try to pull them high enough to not cut off the circulation of my stomach, resorting in a bonafide camel-toe for the entire world to see. When I am at the gym, the combination of my CT and water-balloon boobs has somewhat isolated me from the other members, wondering why I don’t buy appropriate clothing. When I venture out in daily life wearing jeans, I am always flashing passersby with my fly being down. It’s just a problem situation! Not cute, not cute at all.
Another thing that seems sweet and cute but is really not are those faint initial baby flutters you start feeling around this time. Maybe it’s just me, but I have lived in constant fear of being on the verge of having to poop (like the kind that can’t wait) all day every day! These flutters feel a lot like GI Tract warning signals to get into your safe room and be prepared for battle. Time and time again I remove myself from whatever I am doing to go to the restroom and always leave confused and a little disappointed (because every expectant mom knows the GIT slows down, or maybe seems to not exist, during pregnancy … and you look forward to pooping—you just do). Of course I want to feel the baby move, but I also want to be able to tell the difference between “Alert, Alert!” and the acrobatics she performs. Again, so cute, but sometimes nah!
You know what is cute? Her. I dream about her and feel I can see her in my daily tasks and thoughts. Her heartbeat and her tiny defined features are already beyond precious to her father and me, and we would both suffer pure agony to see her face-to-face. I joke a lot about my pregnancy because I honestly think much of this is funny. But I also know I’ve had a great experience so far, and I am so thankful for every part of it. The only true complaint I have is wishing I didn’t have to wait to meet her. It seems like forever when you feel you already know and love this person. Whether it’s “cute or nah,” pregnancy is the only way to have her in my life, and I am more than willing to do it—camel-toe and all! We love you baby B, and I promise to wear appropriate-fitting clothes when you’re old enough to know what’s going on.

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