Sunday, September 26, 2010

All hands on deck

I am a belly rubber. A rubber, a caresser, an examiner, a hand rester, a poker and prodder.

I don't often realize that I am doing it until I am around non belly rubbers. Those pregnant women who don't have belly occupation, those that apparently have 'other' things to do with themselves than poking their belly buttons just to see if it still offers them an almost instant gag reflex.

I also had, during a midwife appointment, my midwife comment about my hands constantly joining my belly in a warm yet possessive embrace. She was concerned that there was something wrong with me. I believe that was the first time I realize how bad it had gotten. It was so out of control that it brought the concern of my care professionals.

I love my belly. It is a prefect little torpedo sticking out in front of me. The perfect resting place for my arms, hands, children (the one inside and a nice shelf for the one outside to sit on) and whatever else I decide to sit on it. I have a real live baby growing in there that moves around all limbs and butt. I get so drawn to it, I just cannot resist the temptation to shake the booty that is sticking out near my ribs.

I am not, however, one of those people that feels drawn to other woman's little torpedoes. I would never come up to a strangers person and feel an automatic clearance to her most precious of packages (belly people, belly). I consider that to be strange and totally invasive. Besides, with what am I going to touch their belly with when both of my hands are velcroed to my own bundle of joy?!

I have also, during this pregnancy, become much more accepting of the downfalls of my over stretched abdominal skin. One very obvious and distinct 'downfall' is the bombardment of cat like scratches that are taking over. I had almost made it through my entire first pregnancy unscathed. The last month got me. I cried. I instantly missed my original body. It was firm, it was unblemished. It was familiar. Now I feel as if that old familiarity of my sweet little 20 something body is unrecognizable to me now. What is familiar to me now is my new and, day by day, more adored, mama body. It may have taken me a couple of years, but I think that I am finally proud of my mama tattoo. Though everything looks a little cuter when on a big ole preggy belly!

Either way, this body has proved to do something amazing and magical and it is hard not to lay a possessive and proud hand on the source of this mystery. Yup, I love this belly of mine!

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