Pardon me, miss…I think your uterus is showing.
I don’t look pregnant. Or, if I do, it’s only because I’m bloated. The bloat-to-gravid transition that will presumably occur (someday) reminds me a lot of going directly from acne to wrinkles. Where was the part where I got to have nice skin? There was no such part. Similarly, where is the part where I get to be pregnant and not have a beer belly? There may be no such part. Whatever, I don’t care. But this morning in the shower while groping myself (as one does) I thought I might have felt…something. Something sorta firm where before there was not too much firmness. I think my uterus might be poking out a little.
(The thing is, there’s a lot of confusing stuff in that area as a result of my surgery. First, there’s the scar. Not coincidentally, it’s right over my uterus, and it’s rather firm too. Then there’s the little flesh shelf of displaced fat that sits over the incision, which also interferes with being able to palpitate my guts. Finally, there’s what I think of as my Novocaine Belly. The severed nerves are still regrowing (it takes a looooong time) so there’s a large area of really OFF-feeling skin from navel to incision. The closest analogy I can think of is that really icky feeling your face has after Novocaine starts to wear off. It’s not exactly numb, you just don’t wanna touch it. It feels too…grody.)
Anyway, when I felt the possible-maybe-there firmness, I burst into tears of joyous amazement. I was like MAYBE MY BABY’S NOT DEAD! A minute later I was like, no…that’s totally the same as it’s always been. Sigh.
I’m twelve weeks today. I’ve got a secret page where I’m keeping offensive things like my floating fetus and belly shots, and any future ultrasound pictures, if I am so lucky. If such things don’t disgust you, you can see a picture of me looking not pregnant.