Our Body

Phew. It has been a while since I’ve been able to sit & write. Really, it has been a while since I haven’t been either horizontal or in the fetal position. As an already pretty nauseous girly, these food aversions and morning sickness (or rather all day sickness) have been kicking my butt. It’s like waking up with the worst hangover ever… every day.

I’m 10 weeks today… & although I’m scared to say it out loud…I feel better than I have in weeks. My body still feels foreign, exhausted, & always aching somewhere, but I’ll take it!

I stood in the shower last night after catching a glimpse of myself in the mirror. I, for a moment, hated what I saw in that reflection. When the usual panic to fix, control, restrict, set in — I also felt a new feeling. This body of mine, which I have always imagined to fall under just my dominion, is not only mine anymore. My body, this body, no longer exists only to be acceptable, beautiful to me — or for them (whoever “them” is anyways).

You see, this body isn’t mine anymore, it’s ours. We exist in tandem together. In an instant, the panic feeling is replaced with deep honor + humility. This body has a job now much more important than public consumption. This body of mine, not just this heart or mind, was chosen for you.

I still catch glimpses of my ever-changing body in the mirror + feel the panic. But now, also the honor, the humility. It’s enough to make me pick my chin up that day, go for that walk, eat my veggies, or reach for the chocolate when I need it.

I don’t have all of the answers. I don’t know if the honor ever beats out the panic. But this journey is making me increasingly & increasingly more okay with that. Most days.

It’s like when I first got pregnant & vowed to go as natural as possible — no medications under any circumstances. And then 4 weeks later quickly surrendered, hunched over with nausea, at my 10-week appointment. Hope my baby likes Unisom & B6 ;)

Most days the only thing I know for sure, is that I have no idea what I’m doing. With so many opinions + schools of thought swirling around me, what to do or not do, how & when & who — I’m left with more questions than answers.

I heard someone in little squares on my social media say this today:

“Comparison culture has robbed us of all sorts of artistic expression.”

I wonder if raising a human is more like art than it is a checklist. Perhaps the real beauty & purpose is found less in looking left and right so much, and more in getting still with the great architect of life, the very creator knitting this little love together in my womb.

I wonder what I’ll miss by not collaborating with the Creator, what art might be missed in my pursuit of doing things so right, so perfect, in my pursuit of imitation.

So I am here again — with the same prayer I always have:

Remind me You are God + that it is much better this way. Remind me of the deep, all-encompassing relief of humility.

Also…Help me, commit to creating this unique, beautiful, true life with You. Let me not trade Your art for imitation. Let me do nothing apart from You.