Pinterest, love handles and baby beautiful

Profound grief changes everything. EVERYTHING. On the rare occasions when I manage to feel something beyond the bone shattering ache that feeling is huge. My adoration for my man, HUGE. My affection for my son, HUGE. My irritation at the stupid things people care about, HUGE.

I’ve ‘discovered’ pinterest recently. Not that I didn’t know it existed but I hadn’t checked it out. I find myself wasting all sorts of time scrolling through the endless pins. My favorites are the DIY. I’m presently DIYing an ottoman and a side table. I’ll let you know how those turn out just in case you care.

Occasionally I come across a ‘fitness motivation’ picture. Seriously? I mean, come on people. I’m a running, weight training, any kinda workouting, yogi but these pictures are NOT motivational. They just make me feel fat. I don’t want to feel fat.

My body is currently on the ‘there’s a human growing inside you’ expansion plan. I’ve had numerous fits about the baby’s apparent need for love handles and saddle bags. The first few times my husband appealed to the scientist in me by reminding me that one of the functions of progesterone (pregnancy hormone) is to instruct he body to store energy. It didn’t work. He’s since given that up for sympathetic grunts and repeated ‘I think you’re sexy’s (yes, he’s awesome).

But the other day my crying hissy fit in the middle of my now-too-small clothes strewn about the floor, those cursed pinterest pictures and my new way of looking at the world collided. I’m done. My stretch marks, love handles, saddle bags, dark circles, weird skin what-cha-ma- callits and weight gain is because my SON is growing inside me. By gosh if I’m not gonna rock it. I had 39 weeks with Damon that no one else in the world got. I’ll be damned if I’m going to waste the 39 weeks I have with Raz.

Pregnancy is beautiful. Every ounce gained, every scar that rips its way across my belly, even the love handles. Beautiful. And every single second that I get and got with my boys is worth it. Consider my attitude adjusted.