Look, I get it – people love babies. People love the thought of babies. The creation of life is an absolute miracle and I am so incredibly thankful that I have had the privilege to bring life into this world. It still baffles me, that MY body was capable of such a feat. Although, pregnancy was not the jam!
My body created a human being.
My body nourished and nurtured a baby.
My body delivered said baby.
My body…my body…my body…my bod…my bo…my b…my, My, MY…
Emphasis on the word: My.
Why is it that the second it is obvious that you are creating a life, people feel entitled to your body?
When did housing a baby mean that you lose all rights to personal space? (Because voluntarily giving it up internally isn’t enough and overwhelming already.)
No – I don’t OWE you a picture.
No – you don’t get to analyze what I’m eating.
No – you don’t get an opinion on my purchases while we’re waiting to checkout.
No – you don’t get to ask me what’s in my water bottle.
No – you can’t just touch my belly.
If you wouldn’t do it before I was pregnant…don’t do it now. If you won’t do it after I’m pregnant…don’t do it now.
My pregnancy is mine.
My pain. My heartburn. My energy. My restless nights. My cravings. My hormones. My hopes and dreams. My fears and doubts. My insecurities. My greatest feat.
My child will one day be a part of this world, but right now, he’s only an ever-present part of mine. So three feet peeps…three feet.