Mourning My Pregnancy

This weekend my latest post for The Conversation was featured on their website:

Ever so often I rest my hand on my belly. It’s different now, wrinkly and soft, the remains of what once was the home of my children. Even at eight weeks postpartum I still find myself waking up, scanning my room for proof that all this is real, examining my body looking at the remains, which prove that, this really is happening. I did give birth to a baby.

I hated being pregnant. I felt for 39 weeks like my body tortured me. I had the most precious gift, a child, growing inside me and yet I was ridden with sickness and physical ailments on a daily basis. Being so sick it was hard to enjoy what was supposed to be such an exciting time in our lives. Knowing that I would never again experience carrying a child inside me, I wanted to savor each moment. Instead, I found myself praying that time would go by fast and it would all be over. I was ready to meet her, to hold her and to love her. I also wanted my body back.

Read more here.

 

p.s. A few Instagram photos of my pregnant belly…

Seems like so long ago.

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Comments

  1. Cutest preggo ever!!