Will I still love her?

I've always had a strong desire to be a mom. Since I was a teenager, I've longed to create a family of my own. Even so, I was sure that I would hate being pregnant. It was going to be, I thought, the necessary evil and price to pay for achieving my ultimate goal.

I braced for my first trimester. A lifetime of digestive issues allowed me no illusion of escaping morning sickness. Even so, I was not prepared for what was in store.

I was nauseous. Constantly.

I would make food and realize I would

not be eating it halfway through.

I wasn't averse.

I wasn't craving.

I was just a sobbing woman asking her husband

when this would stop and I could enjoy food.

It. Was. Hard.

Then it was done.

Gone.

Like it had never happened.

20 weeks

I entered trimester two feeling great, but I didn't expect it to last. Along with a history of digestive issues, I have struggled with self-image for as long as I could remember. My self-esteem is lower than a half-baked potato, usually. So, when entering an experience in which I would inevitably get larger, I prepared to hate my body.

Except I don't.

Did I go through an awkward stage of looking "chubby" and not pregnant? Yes.

Is my bump still less prominent than thinner women with a close due date? Yup.

Have I *gasp* broken the 200 pound weight threshold I swore to never do? Mhmm.

Can I leave a thumbprint in my ankle? Sometimes.

Instead of hating all of those moments, I celebrate them.

It all collectively feels like a sign my body is Doing The Thing.

Weight gain? Baby needs it.

Weird numbness? My body is giving baby space.

Swelling? Yay, I made the extra fluids little man needs.

Winded by bending over? Little man is so big!

Every negative turns around to be something I can positively celebrate. I genuinely don't care about how my body looks. He's measuring well. He's moving. His heartbeat is good.

My body is nurturing his. And it makes me so very happy.

And worried.

25 weeks

I've just entered the third trimester. I'm going to get even bigger. The stretch marks I've somehow managed to avoid thus far (aside from under certain areas of, ahem, growth) will undoubtedly appear. The swelling may become more constant. There will be less that I can do the more pregnant I become. There will be more aches that I experience.

Will I continue to celebrate these little inconveniences as markers of his growth?

Will they come to outweigh these feelings of joy I have now?

If I do maintain this positive outlook throughout this next trimester, what about after?

For better or worse, my body will have been changed by my son. When he joins this world, he'll leave behind stretch marks and loose skin.

Will I still celebrate them as markers of a job well done? Will I still look at this body and love her for what she has accomplished or... will I hate what she's become?

I really hope that I still love her. For nine months she'll have protected, nurtured, and loved a tiny human into this world. I should celebrate her. No. I will celebrate her. Even if I have to work at it every day. Even if I sometimes have to rely on the words of others. Even on her worst day, I will love her. Because she's brought me my greatest gift so far and I owe her at least this much.

28 (nearly 29) weeks

Natural Posed Hey, there's my toes!