Reflection: What a Ride, To Be a Woman

My sister-in-law snapped this photo of me the week my baby started to show (very early on). I told her, “only get images of me from the front!” in effort to conceal my bump before anyone knew I was pregnant.

I gotta say, I’m really happy she got a side image — it will always remind me of those early moments of development and excitement. Everything on my body continues to expand, and I can honestly say I don’t mind. I like it, actually, because it reminds me that things are happening in the way God intended it to happen. 

It’s funny how, when not pregnant, I do my best to refrain from unwanted expansion, but now I embrace it, enjoy it.

Part of me wonders if the desire to stay lean and youthful (in someways, almost pre-pubescent-like) is cultural or some sort of deep-embedded Darwinistic coding that reminds men that we are fresh and ready for procreation. Then, when pregnant, it’s a different kind of physical coding that tells other beings “hey, hands off—I’m growing a baby.”

In any event, I realize a pregnant body is quite the opposite of what society deems as sexy, but it’s not a time to look sexy for men; it’s a time to surrender to nature and let it take it’s course. Pregnancy is freeing, in that sense.

As someone who likes to exercise and eat healthy for the natural energy and high it provides me (I still do these health practices during pregnancy), I cannot pretend that I didn’t appreciate the physical effects I derive from my health practices as well prior to pregnancy.

Now, though, it truly is only about the feeling and not the appearance. Pregnancy has shifted me, physically of course, but also mentally in perhaps a more everlasting sense. In a sense I appreciate more each day.

What a ride, to be a woman.