Yesterday J asked me when I would like to take my maternity photos.
“I don’t know…next month? I don’t really care.”
Then I realized…I really do care. But for the wrong reasons. Because the truth of the matter is, I don’t want to take them. Because never have I felt more unattractive in my life. Because never have I felt more unhealthy.
Because — to be perfectly frank — I hate being pregnant and I don’t want a visual reminder of it.
Now don’t get me wrong — I am still amazed at the life that is living within me, to see her growing larger and stronger, to be able to feel her moving inside of me. I am so thankful that J and I were able to conceive naturally, and that our baby seems to be healthy and doing well. And I thank God every day for giving us this blessing — this miracle — and continue to pray for a happy and healthy baby.
But that doesn’t negate the fact that I hate being pregnant. Am I a horrible mom for thinking this? For admitting to it?
And on some sense I feel like a traitor to myself. Because I tried so hard to get pregnant again. Because there was a time when all I wanted was to be pregnant. And I feel like a traitor to those who are working so hard to get pregnant, to those who would give anything to be in my shoes.
I know there are some women who LOVE being pregnant. Sadly, I am not one of them. I look forward to the day when my daughter is born, not only so that I can see her face-to-face for the first time, but because I know that I will no longer be pregnant.
Surely I can’t be the only woman who feels this way…right?