You know the verse in the bible that says, "Your body is not your own, you were bought at a price..."? I know this is in reference to how we should honor God with our bodies, but I keep thinking about the first part of that verse in relation to my pregnancy: Your body is not your own. I feel this couldn't be more true right now.

I haven't been overly sentimental about my bodily changes. Very few times have I said to Brent, "Remember when I had a flat stomach?" or "I'm going to weigh more than you by the time this is all over." But it is strange to watch my body shift and move and change and grow in such extreme ways in such a short amount of time. I can hardly walk past a reflective service without glancing over to see my belly. In those moments I have to remind myself that that is really me. I forget the belly is there, quite often, and will bump it on the counter or drip water or toothpaste onto its rotund surface.

The other day I was looking at my hair, over my shoulder, in the mirror. My back was to its reflective surface and I thought, "I don't even look pregnant..." and then I turned around. It's moments like these that I remember what my body looked like before. I mean, really, I had a small waist. My hips--now that's a different story-- but my waist was little. Brent could almost get both his hands around it. Am I sad that this is now gone? Very rarely, but there are moments when I realize I may never have that waist back and I wonder how I'll feel about it a year or two from now.

It has been an interesting ride, to say the least. I know it has all happened gradually, but looking back I feel like it has all just kind of happened at once. And now I feel my body is not my own.

These changes though have been incredible to experience as well. As I watch my belly expand [so far without stretch marks...hoo-rah!], I have to realize that this means my baby girl is growing as well. She is rolling and kicking and stretching and swallowing and blinking and all of these things are incredible. So an expanded belly is simply proof of God's miraculous work happening inside of me.

Is it tough sometimes to carry around another human being; to be responsible for her in ways I've never been responsible for another person before? Absolutely. Are there times I would love to just slip on a normal pair of pants and be comfortable? Heck yes. Are there moments of selfishness when I wake up in the middle of the night to use the restroom and I can barely stand up straight because my back is aching so much and I get angry that I'm so uncomfortable? Of course. Do I worry I won't be able to fit back into my pre-pregnancy clothes? No question. But do I miss "my body"? No.

Even though "my body is not my own" right now, I am learning to accept the new me in this process: The new me that is going to have to give up a lot more than her uterus in the upcoming years; The new me that is now a mother responsible for her baby's well-being.

1 comment:

*carrie* said...


This is something I've been thinking about a lot lately as I try to prepare for a birth that looks very different than what I expected/hoped for.

I read a great thought in a book recently: the author was reminding women that our bodies were made for bearing children, and we should be proud of and grateful for all our scars, instead of complaining about them.