When I was pregnant with my first baby, I didn’t show for a long, long time.
I was way smaller than anyone else who was pregnant at the same time.
Including women who were due after me.
Including all the first time Moms that I knew.
I just didn’t show much. I could wear regular clothes for a long time. I got on a plane when I was 8 months pregnant and no one even asked me how far along I was. I had someone guess that I was pregnant when I was almost 9 months along, just because I was waddling instead of walking.
I knew it wouldn’t last. Of course, I secretly hoped it would, but I knew it wouldn’t. Also during that first pregnancy, when I was only about 5 months along, I was visiting some friends of my parents. The hostess had just found out she was expecting. She was still in her 1st trimester and was complaining about gaining weight and needing to wear maternity clothes already. It was a bit shocking to me, since I was a good 2-3 months ahead of her and she was showing more than I was.
But, (and here’s the but) she was expecting her fourth child. So my natural conclusion was, that will be me someday. I’ve got it good now, but it won’t last forever.
Every pregnancy since, I’ve “showed” a little sooner. I remember when I was pregnant with my second son, about five months along, still wearing regular clothes, mind you, and a girl in security at the airport exclaimed, “You’re pregnant, aren’t you?” (At least I was!)
So in the back of my mind, I always expected that for the fourth baby, all bets were off. I was going to “show” early this time. And now that I’m eating better and gradually regaining my strength, I’ve kind of been expecting that, any day now, I’d suddenly gain 10 pounds and really look pregnant.
When I woke up this morning, however, I was a bit unprepared for this:
(Maternity shirt courtesy of my favorite cousin named Sarah.)