Let me preface all of this by making clear that I am NOT an earth mother. I am not all googly-eyed about the life that lives within me nor do I take each bout of nausea, heartburn and/or acid reflux with the attitude that this is what my body needs to be doing to bring a life into this world. Don’t get me wrong, I understand and appreciate the gift that I have been given, especially after having three miscarriages; but I am not going to lie and declare that I am enjoying all of this and I am not ashamed to admit it!
We do need the earth mothers in this world, however, to balance out all the women like me who think pregnancy is the craziest thing they have ever experienced and do not understand how women could opt to go through this more than once. Women like me need the earth mothers so we do not scare other women away from parenthood.
With that being said, I have tried my best to accept what is happening to my physical body knowing that this is what is supposed to happen – at least that is what I am being told. When the infamous baby bump started to make its appearance I did feel somewhat validated especially having prior failed pregnancies that never made it to the bump stage. This kid definitely exists now; there is no denying it. There is also no denying that maternity clothes are now a necessary evil.
If you have never seen a pair of maternity pants, they essentially look like regular pants from the upper thigh down, however, instead of a traditional button and zipper there is an enormous – and I mean ENORMOUS – elastic waistband in their place. While I completely understand its functionality and greatly appreciate the extreme comfort it provides my sensitive stomach, they are possibly the most unflattering garments I have ever worn.
And don’t even get me started on the tent-like tops which are meant to be fashionable but end up looking more like grandma’s couch circa 1978. (Protective plastic covering optional).
Even though I am a nudist/naturist I do enjoy wearing clothes. I may not be a fashionista, but once in a while I can put together a nice ensemble. Now? Getting dressed to run even the smallest of errands has become a torturous event; and for that I have resented pregnancy and what it has been doing to my body; that is until I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror completely nude.
I studied my reflection from every angle and thought I am actually not as big as these clothes make me appear. Dare I say this bump is somewhat adorable and I am rocking it. And my breasts – with the harnesses I have been wearing I looked like my grandmother when she was trying to make it appear as if her breasts were still in front of her as opposed to somewhere closer to her knees. But in all their glory, my breasts, while somewhat larger than I would normally care for – haven’t been this perky since I was in my mid-twenties.
My legs don’t look like I have gained a tree trunk in each one; in fact they, along with my arms, haven’t changed at all. It really just looks as though someone stuck a soccer ball under my skin and called it a day.
I am now campaigning for maternity clothes to be sold with a warning much like side view mirrors in cars; somewhere along the lines of, “When wearing this garment body parts may appear larger than they actually are.”
Appreciating my naked pregnant form is helping me embrace my pregnancy experience. It made me want to lead an even healthier lifestyle and accept more openly what is happening to my body. No, I will not be posting nude, baby bump photos here or anywhere else in cyber world; but that has more to do with that being an annoying cliche and nothing to do with how I feel about myself. I am still going to rock this body — that is until the insecurities of losing the baby weight set in!
Pam Ortiz Miller was born and raised in suburban New York avoiding books and writing of any kind as she preferred musical theatre where people sang you everything you needed to know. It wasn’t until she was a senior at the University of Maryland that she discovered a love of writing. Her main writing focus is poetry, however, she dabbles in short stories, news articles, screenplays and occasional angry letters to customer service reps and estranged relatives. Her latest endeavor is a blog entitled The Real Housewife of Ormond Beach chronicling her adventures in the domestic arts. Like most New Yorkers Pam ended up in Florida where she lives with her husband, three cats and a very special dog. Her hobbies include traveling, photography, cooking, cinema and getting rid of tan lines. On her off days from being a domestic diva she can be found rehabbing sea and land turtles.