Boom-Badda-Boom

Ah. Pre-pregnancy. Pre-motherhood. Pre... life?
I found myself glancing through pictures of the past and getting teary-eyed, remembering my old worries, my old flaws, my old figure...
I know I joke a lot about the weight I've gained, the funny shape I have now. Let me make something perfectly clear. I'm not fat. I don't look fat. In fact, I look fabulous for someone who is technically two people. I'm a hottie. I am glowing and have successfully dodged the much feared "pregnancy nose" (where your nose gains weight or spreads--not so fun). But there's something about knowing your body, which I admit I took for granted beforehand, is never going to be the same.

Your body is a much bigger part of you than you realize. I suddenly look like a globe of the world and move like a Land Rover. I feel startlingly big. The baby, too, floating in the ocean that is me, is so big that I feel, through my skin, her little tushie, the line of her back, her skull lodged in my pelvis, an ostrich egg... I make my way through the world like a Leviathan in black stretch pants. Sleeping is impossible--I can't lie on my back, because the baby pins me like a little sumo wrestler.

Today Hannah said, "Let's take more shots of you!" And I couldn't take it seriously. Mind you, Hannah's an amazing photographer and still managed to turn out some of the most gorgeous portraits I've seen (if I do say so myself), but I couldn't stand still, couldn't hold my body the way I should, couldn't stop nervously talking or making goofy faces. It's hard when you know what the image is going to look like, when you know it's going to be so different from the image you hold of yourself in your head.

Hannah insisted I wear my red Converse. Pre-pregnancy swollen feet, they were my uniform. I lived in my high-tops. I haven't worn them in months. I missed them. And someday, very soon, I'll wear them again, but they'll be different. They'll be relics, reminders of a fabulous person I once was... But that girl isn't gone, like I keep saying. She is officially the base of the pyramid that I'll become, the roots, the foundation. I'm adding to her with little things--motherhood, brunette hair, a different group of friends and support... But she's still there.

It's just so much easier to laugh and say, "Look at the fatty!" But don't you get it wrong. I AM a sacred vessel.