Uncomfortable.

You know the series of unfortunate events that occur when you step foot into a Mexican restaurant while hungry. And the chips and salsa come and you haven’t even looked at the menu, so you just jump right in. And you don’t stop to take a drink (or order a drink, if we are being honest) and you don’t really stop to breathe and suddenly most of the chips are gone and you don’t really know what happened but you do know there’s a chip in your hair. And then you order a whole meal anyway …and eat the whole meal anyway. And then after dinner you feel so full,  you think you could explode or that one single sip of Diet Coke could push you over the edge. Oh and also you really need to pee.

That’s what pregnancy feels like. Almost all the time.

I am in the beginning of the uncomfortable stage. I think this stage lasts for the remaining 21 weeks. But I have started the process now and I will be honest, it’s not pretty.

Every morning for the past three days, I have woken up more gigantic than the day before. My stomach skin is so stretchy and tight and hard. It’s kind of gross. Right now I literally cannot imagine a scenario where it continues to stretch in this way until August. Even though I know it will. It seems impossible. I didn’t look all that pregnant until this week. I could certainly pass it off as a little weight gain. And I can probably still hide it a little bit. But it’s out there. And we are now what the moms call ‘popping.’ And that is uncomfortable. Turns out, housing a water balloon full of a mango is uncomfortable.

Don’t get me wrong. I think pregnant people are adorable. I am that person who sees a pregnant person and admires them from afar and thinks they are basically the cutest thing ever. I love to rub a little pregnant belly (if I know you) and sometimes I will do it without permission, which I now realize is so, so weird. (Sorry, if you are reading this and I have violated your personal space.) But I truly think pregnancy is amazing and adorable and wonderful. Or I did. Until it was me.

It feels really selfish to say it, but while I am 100% so grateful for the amazing things my body and all bodies can do during pregnancy and while I feel incredibly lucky to be pregnant, it’s really hard to accept the new me.

Last year, I spent 6 months training for a half marathon. I worked my ass off, literally. I typically ran 5 days a week and did boot camp on top of that. I lost 25 lbs and was in, arguably, the best shape of my life. I worked so hard to get there. And I liked the way I looked for the first time in a long time.

And now I am selfishly jealous of people with tiny waists. And jealous of the runners I see out on a Saturday morning. Because I used to be that Saturday morning runner. I earned my smaller waist and my much smaller jeans. And now I feel like a lollipop. I feel like my brain hasn’t caught up to what my body is doing. Part of that is my hesitation to get too excited about this pregnancy because I am just honestly so nervous about what can still go wrong. And part of it is just me being a round turd. And so when I look in the mirror and weigh myself, I feel a little panic. And that makes me embarrassed and a little ashamed. Because not everyone gets to be pregnant. And being pregnant is a gift that my brain is taking for granted.

So I am trying really hard to embrace my new body. And I know this is just the beginning. But being pregnant is uncomfortable in so many ways. A lot of ways I just never really even considered. But, trust me, none of this has stopped me from eating cookies.

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