Today after work I drove my ass to McDonald’s for a McChicken and an iced coffee and I immediately felt regret. “Just because you’re pregnant doesn’t mean you can throw your body and diet away.” This is a constant cycle for me. Before I got pregnant, a McChicken used to be a rarity for me. The scale didn’t move at first, then it went and it went fast. I’m just about 20 weeks, half way, and I’m up about 12 pounds from pre-pregnancy and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t freaked out. Does that make me less grateful for my baby? No. Does that make me selfish? No. I love feeling my baby move. I love knowing I’m growing a life. I love knowing I’m a mom. But I don’t love seeing my body change on the daily. BUT, I’m trying to not refer to myself as “fat” or “chunky” because with or without this extra 12 pounds, my body is fine and my baby is fine. I have a man who admires my body every single day. I have a body I thought wasn’t capable of carrying children, doing exactly that and as of right now I refuse to ruin this experience with negative self talk. I have the rest of my life to look good, but I only have 9 months of carrying a baby and I’ll be damned if I’m going to let a number on the scale rob me of this beautiful blessing. This is my pledge to myself to embrace my body, now and postpartum, because there is really no greater gift than having a capable body. If you hung in there for all this, thanks for coming to my motivational speech to myself. 🥰 First picture is THE DAY I found out I was pregnant, second is from last week. I see changes every day. Just trying to make my baby’s home for the next few months a little more “homey”. 😍 I praise all you mommas out there. This is just the beginning and I’ve already been challenged more than I ever thought I would be at this point. Women are amazing. Literally.