Pregnant women are beautiful.
Or are they?
I will admit that I never felt beautiful as a pregnant woman. Sure, there were times, especially in my first trimester, when my husband would comment how gorgeous I looked or that I was “glowing,” but I highly suspect those compliments were derived more from the increased volume of two particular body parts under my neck instead of an appreciation for the beauty of pregnancy.
All of those stereotypes about pregnant women? How they are glowing Mother Earth’s, radiating peace and goodwill towards mankind?
I didn’t feel glowy—I felt sweaty.
I didn’t feel like an incredible part of creation—truth to be told, most of the time I felt gassy.
I didn’t feel like I radiated motherly love—I felt like I radiated a “Danger, May Knock Over Every Object In Sight” sign as I waddled around.
As miserable as I sometimes found pregnancy to be, however, I have to say that there really is something mesmerizing about a pregnant woman.
Maybe it’s in the way that she walks, a physical representation of hope for the future.
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