Oh, midi skirts. You have been saving me for the past four weeks. Not only do you have a nice, forgiving waistline for the massive expansion that’s happening over here, but you’ve been so sweet to offer coverage, as well. That’s right! I can bend over and not reveal which day of the week it is! (That’s an inside joke for my mother, b/c I used to love my days of the week underwear, and gosh, I’d still don them if I could promise myself to do laundry every 7 days…)
Anyway, I’m going to talk about pregnancy weight gain a bit, OK? I’m quite sure every pregnant gal is different, but for me? The second that stick showed a plus sign, my boobs started morphing into someone else’s. They are massive, and getting dressed requires a ridiculous amount of upstairs support. My hips are also in full birthing position, ready to roar. I don’t know why they decided to prepare themselves so early, but I’m sure I’ll be thanking them profusely in the delivery room.
I’m 25 weeks now (although this photo was taken at like, 21, because I’m a tardy blogger), and although my feet aren’t swelling, my face is. Which is unfortunate for someone who already has above-average cheek action. All of this is to say that it’s crazy natural to want to pause the body clock and yell “Stop with the changes! I’m changed out!”
But then you remember that there’s this tiny you inside, and it can’t help but grow bigger, rounder and larger. And that is a beautiful routine. Grow, grow, grow, little one, and I’ll do my best to make room for you – one stretch mark at a time.
PHOTO CREDIT: BETSY KING