Body Issues

First of all, I really never thought I'd need a bra with three hook-and-eye closures before I was 50, but I was wrong. At least they're still somewhat pretty and feminine, although super-duper elasticized and nearly two inches from top to bottom in the back.

Maybe my father-in-law was right. Maybe I should be on the look out for new shoes. You know, bigger, longer shoes, to expand my base, lower my center of gravity and keep me from tipping over. (Really, early on he did make a comment to Brian about me needing bigger shoes to balance things out; opportunity just hadn't arisen, yet, to share the comments that make me laugh every time I think of them.)

Secondly, I don't know what's going on with my mid-section, but it's confusing. The maternity jeans I've worn one weekend so far seemed really big Friday night, so just for kicks I grabbed one of my old pairs of jeans. And they fit. Without a belly band. Snug, but completely wearable, which was not the case more than a month ago. So I don't know if I was particularly bloated and too quick to give up that weekend, or if this baby is shifting his house around in there, or what. But it's frustrating.

I keep seeing pictures of women who are first-time preggers and not as far along as me, but who are proudly sporting well-pronounced bumps. I mean bumps that look really big and really pregnant. And I'm jealous. I never thought I'd say it because I really do relish the idea of wearing my normal clothes as long as possible, but come on already - is this thing ever going to pop? And pop for real I mean, not come out, then go back into hiding?

I know I shouldn't be concerned because my doctor wasn't at all worried just one short week ago, but last night my somewhat inebriated and unconditionally loving and protective husband told me (and the baby) he's concerned I'm not showing more. He said he wants to call the doctor soon, if nothing is happening in a week or so.

Again, I'm not worried about the baby, because somehow he's making room in there to grow just as he's supposed to, according to the 19 week ulrasound. I'm just a little jealous.

And the completely irrational side of me is starting to worry that maybe some coworkers and acquaintances are beginning to think I'm making this all up. Like I said, it's the nutso part of me talking, but it's there in the back of my head. People are constantly giving me second glances, asking me to pose (you know, smooth the shirt down over the tummy) and telling me how not-pregnant I look. The polite smiles and thanks-I'm-flattered responses are getting old for me.

And now that crazy little no-one-really-believes-you're-knocked-up voice in my head combined with my husband's newly vocalized concerns and/or disappointment have me spun for a tizzy this week. And it's only Monday.

I'm sure once my big baby belly is making my back hurt and joints swell, and preventing me from tying my shoes and maintaining my personal shaving regimen, I'll want to kick myself for dedicating any concern to this, rather than just enjoying my prolongued comfort and mobility.

At least I really, really hope so.