A Different Kind of Treasure

Finishing my 2008 photo album took me back in time. But something else took me back just a little bit further last week.

I ran into a friend who is pregnant and due in November. I remarked on her beautiful belly and commented how I did not like being pregnant but I still love the feel of baby bellies.

“You didn’t like being pregnant?” She asks shocked. She continues that she’s never felt better, more beautiful, big booty and all.

We chat some more about my 5 months of illness, the miracle of pregnancy, boob growth, the usual pregnancy girl talk.

When we finish, I walk home and it occurs to me, I too loved being pregnant. At points. I too had never felt more beautiful, womanly, important. But I had got so used to this ‘story’ of mine. This ‘Woa is me, I was so sick, so exhausted.’ And so I was. For 5 months of it. The other four were fabulous. Well, fabulous with Kaya. Slightly less so with Brennyn being on my feet with my own business with the stress of deciding to sell and then trying to sell in a horrible economic climate… Still, oh how I loved to rub that belly. To feel baby move. To hear babies heartbeat. To be so connected. Figuratively. Literally.

Which brings me to last week. Remembering all this led me back to my blog archives. When I was pregnant with Brennyn (limited entries) and pregnant with Kaya. I laughed as I read through farts, kicks, bladder bathroom sprints and CRAZY dreams. But then I read the last one written before my first baby was born. It is called A Car Chase and I cried.

Cried not for the contents of the blog necessarily but for the realization at how much I was a mom before I became a mom. I had actually forgot this incident even happened. A few short days later and I gave birth, had a baby, brought baby home and was in a whole new universe. No time to dwell on what was, or could have been. So I read this again now and am shocked by the fierceness with which I was already protecting my baby. Not yet officially a mother, but so, undeniably a mother. Such is the miracle of pregnancy.

With tears still in my eyes, I email my friend who has never taken for granted this gift of carrying a child and thank her for reminding me about the joys of pregnancy. And I tell her in all honestly, that while I did not always love being pregnant, I did always treasure it. Thanks to her, and my journal entries, I remember that now. And I have a new story to tell.


One thought on “A Different Kind of Treasure

  1. Your linked post is sooooo well written. Your words describe it so well. Thankful that you didn’t experience anything worse.
    Thanks for the share.

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