There are certain highs and lows to be expected during pregnancy. At least, there are lows, anyway. The last few weeks are of course the worst as anxiety builds and the baby slowly feeds on every last bit of functionality left in the poor pregnant body, until all that remains is a very large vat of hormones. Let it be known that I have tried not to succumb to the poor weak pregnant woman’s hopes of an early baby, and I have tried not to give way to complete despair as I become more and more uncomfortable as the shell of my body fades away hour by hour, day by day. But tonight, or shall I say, this early morning, I could not hold out any longer but found myself desperately searching through every photo I possess to remind myself of what I used to look like, back when I was human. It’s obvious to me now that I used to be far more attractive than I gave myself credit for; I mean, how could I have been so callous as to not even care that I had no stretch marks! Or that there was just one of me, for crying out loud. Of course, I can’t forget that I’m looking at the pictures and processing them through MY brain, my over-crowded-with-hormones-pregnant-brain, and pretty soon it becomes even more obvious, when I’m looking at my teeth thinking “they were so much whiter then!” and my skin “so much tanner!” and my nails “so shiny!” and “What did I do to my hair to make it look like that! Oh yeah, NOTHING!” Until I realized that there is nothing left of me untouched by pregnancy, and I have no choice but to even more zealously avoid looking into any type of reflective surface until this baby has found its place in this world and not in my body.
Here’s to 36 weeks and counting.