26 Weeks

My stomach is grumbling like it hasn't been fed in weeks. In reality, we went out to dinner last night and I polished off the dessert I took to-go (apple pie) just before midnight in bed.

There is an intense burbling emptiness happening in my abdomen, but instead of the deep tummy rumbles I remember as hunger pains, it appears to originate at about my diaphragm. This is due to the fact that Baby Sloane, small as she may be in comparison to me, is taking up space about the size of a soccer ball in my abdomen.

I've begun to loathe showering. First of all, I feel like an animal in a pen waiting to be slaughtered because I seem to take up so much more space. But that is not the worst part. Having a soccer ball take up residence in your petite torso makes it incredibly difficult to bend down. If I happen to drop anything, or God forbid, think about shaving - there are a series of uncomfortable side bends and twists I need to do to get myself to a seated position. I have all the grace of a newborn foal.

After a particularly annoying shower last week, I had to dry my hair. This too presents a challenge because as we have no counter tops in the bathroom, I am required to set my blow dryer down on the floor in between brush strokes. Each time I do so, I have to do the same groaning contortions to pick it back up again. Trying to explain it to my husband, who seems to be getting thinner (rude) is ineffective so I made him grab one of my squish pillows from our bed and shove it under his t-shirt. "Okay, now make it as big as a soccer ball." He did it. "Well, now try to...no wait. Push it down more into your jeans." He looked at me skeptically but followed directions as we compared bumps in the mirror. "Okay now bend down in front of you, " I bossed. "Uggghhhhh," he groaned as he bent down. "See!" I shrieked victoriously.

At 26 weeks, I've grown from a 32A to a 36D, which seems a little like when I wished and hoped for braces, even simulating them by putting pieces of tinfoil in front of my teeth as an elementary school student; my wish came true about a decade late, when in the same week I was sentenced with both braces and glasses my junior year of high school.

Big boobs are overrated. They don't do anything except make clothing hang less gracefully and make a short-waisted woman housing the aforementioned soccer ball look rotund. Although for the most part, I'm proud of my pregnancy fashion, but because of my new jugs I feel sloppy in most of what I wear.

Being pregnant is not terrible. It's really lovely for lots of reasons but it is also an intensely physical process. More then ever, I feel rooted in my body - a deeply unfamiliar body I've always been in.

I stare down at the same hands I remember as I type, but finding a comfortable position for sleep and fighting to stay balanced as I get up are not-so-subtle reminders of the new body I have. I disagree with anyone who says your body is not your own anymore when you are pregnant, because it absolutely is. This is my body that is making a person from scratch. It's my body that seems to know what to do all on its own to protect Baby Sloane. I feel like a cross between a warrior and a super-computer. Maybe like one of the good Terminators.

As Baby Sloane has newly developed all 5 of her senses just last week, my senses feel more sensitive and highly functioning than I can remember. Since pregnant, I've only cried 4 times so far. I don't feel worried or anxious because I simply don't think it's a priority somehow.

I can recall facts and details of stories more easily. I can detect and name any smell. And perhaps best of all, as I sit in my cubicle or go out to dinner, I'm doing everything my coworkers or dinner companions are doing, only MY BODY IS ALSO MANUFACTURING A HUMAN AT THE SAME TIME!