Fence-sitter, or "I love-hate pregnancy"

I have found that there are many areas of life where, even when I have strong views, they tend not to be black and white. Instead of being wishy-washy or a fence-sitter, I prefer to think of myself as nuanced and complex. (I am winking, here.)

I have heard so many people lately say that they LOVED being pregnant -- they'd do it a hundred times more if they didn't have to raise the children! Or that they HATED it, but at least the end result was worth it. I feel... neither.

See, I love the part with the kicks and turns and getting to communicate with my kid before he's born. I remember singing in the car and feeling Zadie kick, and thinking that I am the only one who knows she likes Paul Simon before she's even born!

But I can't pretend I love the lower back pain or that it doesn't exist.

But I also feel beautiful and womanly and curvaceous, and my skin is in great shape.

And I'm so bone-tired by the end of the day. I am a person with a lot of energy, and feeling like I just can't do one more thing after about 8:30 is disheartening.

I've never felt harassed by strangers trying to touch my belly. In fact, the few people who have are usually good friends or family. Sometimes I have to suggest they do it -- my mom has hardly touched it! It doesn't bother me a bit.

It is somewhat uncomfortable, however, to feel so looked at in public all the time. Like, I've spent most of my adult life overweight (with brief periods otherwise), so I suspect sometimes people look and judge, but I never really notice it. But when you're pregnant, people openly look at you, ask about your body (well, about how far along you are, your due date...), and are evaluating. They're not even doing it in a mean or judgmental way most of the time, but they're giving it careful and obvious thought, because they want to be good at guessing. So someone will ask, "When are you due?" and when you answer "three months from now," they will size up your belly and go "Wow!" Because yep, I am HUGE.

And I'm fine with that. I understand my own body, and one of the things I've figured out is that I have a very short waist -- there's really nowhere for a baby to go but out.  So it goes out. It's supposed to. In fact, I'm very pleased that everything is going as it is supposed to this time around.

So there are ups and downs. Shades of gray. I love parts and I hate parts, and that's all okay.

Next week marks 28 weeks, or the FINAL COUNTDOWN. I'm getting excited!