My Big Belly

My belly's big. Really big. I know because everyone keeps telling me so--strangers and acquaintances alike. Here in France it seems much more acceptable to openly comment on a pregnant lady's protrusion. Several times a day, I hear "Mais, ca pousse!"--Wow, that's really pushing! (As in the outward direction.)

I find it strange how in this part of pregnancy, your enormous stomach kind of ceases to be a part of you and becomes more a very intimate, close companion. In many ways, it doesn't really feel like my body, even though it's always there--acting as an arm rest, catching my spills, blocking the bottom of the page when I read. The fluttery kicks and punches that used to feel like butterflies are now so pronounced that I'm constantly reminded that this little creature inside of me is a completely separate and distinct being. I may be sound asleep, but if you a put a hand on my tummy, you'll likely to discover that he's not.

Certainly the round pregnancy belly has its disadvantages. I feel huge. I really struggle mentally separating "fat" from "pregnant." My clothes don't fit. Recently Brooklyn sighed pityingly and told me that my belly was so big that it was making it hard to be modest (my non-maternity shirts all flip up.) Even so, after spending so much time with this little one, I think that when it's all over and there are no more limbs inside to poke and be poked by, I just might feel a little lonely.