Today was a hard day. Today I met with my OB and she told me I was overweight for how far along I am. 31 weeks and I’ve gained 31 pounds. I’m only supposed to gain 35 grand total by week 40 and the way things are going, I’m going to be quite a bit over that. You never can know, but - it’s a safe assumption.

This is why that’s hard: I’ve spent many years of my adult life making peace with this body. This body that has endured so much hurt and medical trauma. This body that they have cut into and been inside of and taken pieces away from. A body whose hands signed consent form after consent form to say I’d not sue if this body could never carry a child. This body. That has swam in the ocean and climbed mountains and rolled in snow and walked down the aisle to meet the man of my dreams. This body has done so much for me and been through so much with me. And even still, I’ve had to work to love this body. I’ve had to throw away the scale in order to be nice to this body. I’ve joined a gym and then quit that gym because it was making me angry and scornful towards this body. And then, a miracle: peace came. I weighed nearly twenty pounds more than I had in college. The exact number of pounds don’t really matter. I was curvy and thick and loved my thighs and my hips and my little waist. I loved this body. And then, another miracle: a pregnancy. And then, ANOTHER MIRACLE: a pregnancy that stuck. A healthy baby. A growing little body inside of This. Amazing. Body. And I told myself: be kind to this body, Morgan. Be nice to it. It’s working so hard. It’s doing so much. When it’s hungry, feed it. Take it outside and love it. And I made a mantra of it: “thank you body.” And I worked hard to not pay attention to the blogs and the articles and the mommy makeover instagrams that talked about the snap back and the “right” amount of weight. And I did well. I was strong. Until today. Today I left my OB’s office and I cried and I cried. I refused to go to the grocery store because I was afraid of the aisles of food. It brought me back to an ugly place I thought I’d left far behind. But there I was right back there again.

So I called my person. My perfect, always knows what to say, best friend for life husband. And he told me all the right things. And what he said exactly, that’s just for us. But it made me realize that I’m NOT in that ugly place. I was just having a bad day. And a bad day isn’t a bad life. And a few extra pounds isn’t the end of the world. And this pregnancy is more than numbers on a scale: it’s about creating and birthing a whole life. A new baby’s life, certainly. But also the birth of a momma. My rebirth. It’s a role I have to ease into. It’s not going to be easy, just like today wasn’t. But it’s going to be worth it, just like this whole experience will be.

Off to the grocery store now. See ya 👋🏼