i am a pear

Pregnancy is not comfortable. It's like being stuffed with 5 million cheeseburgers, blindfolded and then sent on a scavenger hunt in a foreign city.

Today I'm a pear - my old self in most ways except the belly, which seems to have grown 10 inches outward overnight. There's just nothing normal about looking at yourself in the mirror and seeing a piece of fruit.

What did I used to look like? There's a bikini in my top dresser drawer that offers a hint, but today i'm pretty sure it isn't even mine. Someone very evil planted it there to make me miserable.

It's not that I'm not grateful. I am. Our baby flits around like a little bat trapped in a box and it makes me happy, even when he pumbles my ribs. I hear his heartbeat and I tear up. I dream of the day I can hold him, even if he's a screaming monster.

But 7 more weeks? Seven more Mondays, Tuesdays, Wednesdays, Thursdays, Fridays, Saturdays and Sundays of waking up to a new and more uncomfortable me? I can hardly believe I wished myself this way.

I'll do it. I'll do it for you little guy cause I haven't even seen your face and yet I adore you. But the day I wake up and see a watermelon, we're going to have a long talk.