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With my first pregnancy, I watched in what could only be called fascination as my previously flat (though definitely not rock-hard) abdomen got pudgy, and then pudgier, and then roundish, then definitely spherical, then so big, round, and how-do-you-do that, it seemed like its own planet. I didn’t mind. I liked my big belly. It was holding a baby I had been wanting for a while, and I could watch my big belly move as she kicked her feet inside my greatly expanded uterus. All was well with the belly.

I’m Sure I Used to Have Ankles

But then there were my ankles. I never realized how vain I was about my feet and ankles. I mean, I have nice, petite feet, but what’s the big deal? So do a lot of other women. I do know that it kind of shocked me when I heard my sister-in-law or friend say something about having ugly feet, and how self-conscious they were in sandals… Feet? Ugly? Self-conscious? This was a foreign language to me. That’s because I took for granted that I had cute little feet, nicely shaped toes, and well-defined ankles. I took it for granted until I was around seven months along, which is just about when every bone in my foot and ankle disappeared, beneath a layer of fat, puffy, stretched-out skin. I didn’t have feet and ankles anymore. I had thighs that extended all the way to my toes. I never did like my thighs very much, so you can imagine how great I felt about their unauthorized extension.

Puffy Feet

I would take a nice warm bath at the end of the day, prop my puffy feet up on the end of the tub, and grimace. I didn’t like to see them. It was summertime, and I didn’t want to wear sandals, but I couldn’t fit them into shoes. I just hoped no one would look.

Is it stupid to be concerned about the appearance of your feet when you are nurturing new life? Maybe it is stupid, but I think it’s pretty normal. Not good, mind you, just normal. Normal because we preen and primp and emphasize everything beautiful about our bodies, and then we dream about being mommies and how special and precious it is to nurture a baby, and we don’t think about how those two realities collide. And collide they do, everywhere on a pregnant woman’s body: from the hair falling out to the nails getting brittle, (or way too long) to the expanded, spherical belly to the itchy skin and muscle aches, right to the stretch marks to the puffy feet.

It’s Not All Bad

I’m halfway through my third pregnancy now, and I’ve learned a little something about a woman’s body, pregnancy, and babies. First, they are worth it. The babies, that is. Sure, I was elated to see my ankle bones again; but it had ceased to become important after seeing my daughter, precious and perfect, cuddle up on my chest and look at me with fuzzy blue eyes. I would walk on sausages forever for that. However, knowing the outcome of the aches and stretches, and the impossible expansion of my body during pregnancy, made it easier to deal with the changes the second time. That’s because I learned something else, number two on the list: my pregnant body is amazing.

Common Sense and Appreciation

I read a lot about the process during my first pregnancy. I read even more during my second pregnancy. And now, in this third pregnancy, when I’m out of breath climbing the stairs, I think, “Hey, that’s okay. It’s simply because my uterus is above my belly button and all my internal organs are squished up like sardines in a can and it affects the way I breathe.”

Okay, I don’t think that every time I’m out of breath, but I have developed a huge appreciation for what this body of mine is capable of doing in order to protect, nourish, and bring a baby into the world. The more I understand about what’s happening on the inside and the amazing resource my body is for this baby, the more I respect what is happening. And that helps me to put up with some of the changes I don’t really understand (or like) on the outside of my body.

Nine Months Later

The third thing I learned is this: it doesn’t last forever. I have to remember that, because some effects that pregnancy has on the body simply can’t be loved. Itchy skin, for example. I don’t like being itchy, or having eczema, or having my hair fall out. I don’t enjoy feet that ache simply from carrying around 25 extra pounds all day. I don’t like getting muscle cramps in my calves during the night, or waking up at 2 a.m. ravenously hungry, or having to find a public bathroom every thirty-seven minutes. But it doesn’t last forever. One day, or night, you realize something is different. You go through the miraculous process that is birth, and your body immediately begins to recover from the stress of pregnancy. No, you don’t see it right away. You have some recovery time in there. But things start to balance out again, and one day you look down and realize that not only can you see your feet, but they actually look pretty good.

Photo by pumicehead.