Member-only story
For Nine Months, My Body Was Perfect
That love was gone in an instant.
I was standing behind the front desk at work, looking for something in a file cabinet. A gentleman had walked in and asked our receptionist a question. As she looked up the answer, I turned around. He gasped. He audibly gasped.
From behind, I didn’t look immensely pregnant. He was unprepared. I was all belly. I can’t remember how far along I was but I do remember that my boss was pregnant, as well.
We were both so big that we thought it was hilarious that we couldn’t pass each other in the hallway without turning sideways and our bellies rubbing together.
I had all the physical ailments of a pregnant woman. My wedding ring no longer fit. My feet were swollen, too. I could already see that no amount of cocoa butter and old wives tales would ever stave off the stretch marks. My belly itched like hell.
Still, I loved my body so much then. It was perfect. It looked exactly as it was supposed to look. Healthy. Big and life carrying. I actually felt sexy.
After I had my daughter, I struggled. There’s so much about the first weeks of motherhood no one ever tells you.
