There IS evidence of life. And most of the time I am absolutely buoyant in the comfortable knowledge that my body is growing a human.
But in these in-between times, when the days leading up to another appointment, another ultrasound, grow long… well, my negative self-image, media images, the urge to compare with others, it makes me sad at what I DON’T see.
My breasts have grown tremendously- from a B cup to a DD currently. My face has thinned out, but the fat I carry around my groin since weight loss surgery– it’s spreading wider as my uterus grows and pushes up. I’m confident that I feel movement below my bellybutton a few times a day. Cravings, which is a strange word for the biological imperative to have THIS thing NOW, are becoming more frequent. I’ve SEEN her, many times now… but I just can’t believe the evidence of her in these darker days between appointments.
What I don’t see is a bump. I don’t see the media-ideal of a cute little D shaped bump. I don’t even see the much talked about B shaped bump. I knew I’d need to be patient… I told folks not to expect me to look pregnant until at least 24 weeks… a full month from now… but I thought *I* would be able to see something.
But I don’t… and I feel like a fraud. My counselor asks why I hesitate to be excited and stop myself from joy… because I don’t feel like I deserve it. “I must not REALLY be pregnant, no one can see it.” I just look MORE fat. Have I somehow made all this up in my head? Am I in a dream that I just refuse to wake up from for the joy of it? Some days, like today, I’m so sure I made it all up, and that the next doctor appointment will be a blow to the heart.
I’m sure there’s more to it than this longing to look like everyone else. Partner says HE can see the evidence. Perhaps it’s just a carry over of always being the fat girl. Perhaps it’s a carry over of the PTSD of infertility. I don’t know what it is, but it’s sad and depressing to be finding reasons to question 12 home pregnancy tests, two blood tests, four ultrasounds, and suddenly giant boobs.
So, I must banish this. I will meditate and try to connect better with this life inside me. She deserves a happy mother, or happier at least. I need to believe in her so she can believe in me. I don’t know why I’m suddenly back in high school, longing to look “like everyone else” but there it is. I just need to let it go and KNOW. I’ve done every other part of my life “my way.” Why should this chapter be any different?