I wonder if most pregnant women share this sentiment, but I feel strangely more self-conscious, bordering on insecure, now than I ever have before. It’s the one time when it’s not only okay but encouraged to gain weight but, surrounded by annoyingly/inspiringly buffed-out mamas at my local suburban yoga studio, women who run marathons and deliver babies on the same day, and the latest spanx craze, I admit I still blush and don’t know quite how to respond when I get the almost daily “You’re HUGE!” or “You’re TINY!” comment–I think both are meant as compliments? Or maybe just different interpretations of the obvious…
So, as I am settling into the third trimester, I asked John to take a few snapshots during a moment of comfort with my figure. I had just returned from a yoga class and, though legs and arms were shaking, felt stronger and more capable than I had in several weeks. (I’ve been feeling a little discouraged since what I think was likely my last run during pregnancy. Supposedly it’s fairly common, but I think my rectus muscles are starting to separate and, despite various techniques to support the belly, running is no longer pleasant.)
