Tuesday, February 20, 2007


I didn't know it at the time, sitting in the restaurant at Simon Pearce in Queeche, VT and drinking a chaste sip of wine, how my life would change after my pregnancy. I didn't know the full implications of my decision then.

A baby was only an abstract thought to me. I had very little morning sickness and for the first 12 weeks of my pregnancy, it was easier for me to believe that I had ovarian cancer than a child. All of the pregnancy tests in the world couldn't convince me that I would be able to carry a growing infant to term in my body.

Then I did. Zac came and he was beautiful, if completely unknown and foreign to me. I wish I could have those early days back with him. I would give almost anything to hold him against me and feel his soft, downy head. It's probably the most accute form of revisionist history to wish that I could look down and see him nurse again. I miss the unbelievably small onesies and sleeping next to him throughout the night. I see little babies in the mall or in the waiting room of my organization and think, "How was he ever that small?" Even at one month old, he looked like a little mini adult, fully formed and ready to play.

Now he wakes me up by coming as close to my face as possible, with our noses almost touching, and yells, "HA!" as soon as he sees my eyes open. His mouth hangs open in a goofy grin and he opens his eyes as wide as possible to greet me good morning.

I get up, turn on some cartoons for him to watch, get undressed to take a shower and am once again faced with my post-pregnancy body. It's covered in stretch marks and parts hang lower than I think they should. My stomach has the odd dual lumps, with my belly button in the middle, separating the twin hills. When I spin around to turn on the shower, I remember why I turn out the light before I get undressed.

Trying to date with this body is like trying to write a novel with a worn down nub of a pencil. It's possible to do it, just not easy. The pencil can form words and convey the thoughts of the author, but its a dull instrument when compared to a computer or even a pen.

It's not that I want to trade my body or even go back to the body that I had before Zac, it's that I wish I could embrace the beauty of this pencil, bitemarks and all.


Anonymous said...

We have the exact same body shape. Interesting.

I take it the Jenny Craig thing isn't going so good NSPIT?


Pregnant In Texas said...


I've plateaued (and that is an incredibly difficult word to spell so I hope that you appreciate the effort!) on Jenny Craig. It's not there fault, it's actually mine. I'm back to where I was, weight wise, before I had Zac and I'm not as motivated to actually get to a "healthy weight range" because I've always been this weight.

So, I'm working on my motivation and asked West Viriginia to be a little less complimentary and a little more supportive of incorporating exercise into hanging out.

Anonymous said...

I'm glad to hear West Virginia is complimentary though. Having someone to work out with you would be nice, wouldn't it?

doow said...

"HA!" - that's an excellent way to say good morning.

thordora said...

Somehow, I found my acceptance. I still dislike my body sometimes, but I dislike my OWN lack of motivation to do anything with it. Having a partner who doesn't give a rats ass about my weight, and prefers me bigger helps as well.

I think the weird tummy is the legacy our kids give us, and part of the acceptance of now being a parent.

Anonymous said...

Very well put. Very well put indeed.

Lemonhead said...

You should embrace the beauty. Hey - not everyone can get stretch marks from giving birth. Men get them from beer bellies - or working out like meatheads. Love yourself. Love the skin your in. Your stretch marks are a sign of accomplishment and love.