Stretched

When you're 37 weeks pregnant in the Sydney summer heat, and you feel like a waddling sack of potatoes with elephant thighs and a gorilla neck, and you're starting to worry that you may never go back to your slim figure and you may never fit any of your jeans anymore. And the reality that you're going to have to go through labour, having no idea what to expect and there's no way out, is starting to sink into your chest. But you feel terribly guilty for feeling these things when there's a wonderful new life growing inside of you. You want to be brave and strong and positive for their sake. You'd never dream of your babies having these thoughts towards themselves. You'll strive the rest of your life trying to raise them to be confident and love the body they've been given.

But you're also a woman, whose identity, for a big part of your life, has been held up -wrongfully- inside your looks. And now, all that you thought you were has been enlarged and morphed and you don't look like yourself anymore. And not only that, but you are no longer your own. Everything about you from here on out, is going to be about the little human you carried into this world. And if you're like me, you don't have another job you're going back to. This is it; for now. You thought you wanted this, and you do. But you're still scared. You still feel insecure. And you still feel out of place in your stretched out new role.

This is the truth in how I feel. I don't always know how to be positive and confident about my new body. Sometimes I want to hide from places where people know me. Every time I encounter others they tell me how I still look great and only have a bump, the rest of me is still the same. And I just want to kindly grab them by the ears and introduce them to my hips n' thighs that kicked out my pants. It doesn't make me feel better about myself. It makes me feel even more pressured to be physically superficially beautiful. And it subtly disregards my very real insecurities and fears. 

I wonder if most mummy's to be feel this way at some point in their pregnancy journey? Or have I just completely got it all

wrong? How dare I be so selfish in making the entrance of this new life dampen my self-confidence because of my own bodily imperceptions. I realise that I have a long way to go. I thought I knew who I was, I thought I was finally growing into my true self, confidently. It turns out, that I've slowly stepped backwards. But the hurdles we face in life are never set up in a perfectly neat row. The right way isn't always straightforward. Honesty is of greater worth than holding up a good image. Honesty allows for sincere change and lasting growth. It might take longer to get anywhere, but the security in certainty is deeper than before. 

The next time you want to encourage a pregnant woman, don't only comment on how she looks, because she doesn't need to be reminded of her physicality. She's faced with it every morning when she gets dressed, every time she looks in a mirror, and every time she rolls over in bed. Instead, ask her how she deeply feels, her world is about to change and she may be vulnerable. She needs to know that there are still people out there who see her, really see her, on the inside. As she is about to step into the most valuable position anyone could ever hold, she needs to know that she's not just going to disappear all alone in her home.