I am finally into some maternity clothes. Nearing week 18 and still, only now, putting on shirts that have that familiar extention in the front. It’s a difficult thing going from weight loss to weight gain, backward progress it seems. From smaller clothing to larger. Backward progress.
Except it’s not. It’s leaping forward. I am doing what I was made to do, what my heart sings about and my soul rejoices in. I am growing a baby, new life. My womb is full and my heart is happy.
Even when I feel like a cow.
I had my dear husband pull the old familiar box from the attic, full of maternity clothes. Pulled some out for Mass last Sunday and got dressed. I felt ok. Really. It’s a comfort to be at a point where you can show the world that you are cooperating in the creation of a new soul. And still, there was that part of me, that little twinge, that felt a little awkward. A little too, well, Fat.
That’s when my dearest love looked at me and smiled. Looked at me and wrapped his arms around me and said “I love this part, This part where you get dressed in cute maternity clothes, and you are so obviously pregnant you don’t even know how incredibly beautiful you are”
I love this man of mine. I am thankful for him even when I’m mad at him. I am so blessed to be given someone so incredible.