The Baby Bump Pic
No, I will not send you a picture of my baby bump.
If I wear what I normally wear - a loose-fitting top - and snap a picture of myself, I will not look like a glowing pregnant person. I’ll look like someone who has let herself go a little bit during quarantine (which, by the way, I have).
I suppose this bump is supposed to be cute and beautiful and amazing, but I don’t feel any of those things at five months pregnant. I feel like I’ve added a small tire around my stomach. I’m wider from every angle.
Asking me to send a picture of my baby bump is like asking me to send a picture of myself in a bathing suit. Perhaps some people feel perfectly comfortable sending a picture of themselves half-naked. I am not one of those people.
Maybe it’s because I’ve had past struggles with my body image. I’m in a really good place now as far as respecting and accepting my body, but sending a picture of myself, in any way, makes me uncomfortable. I don’t even like to Facetime friends.
I recently went for a walk and ran into my neighbor who I haven’t seen in a while. As the conversation went on - from ten feet apart as the required six feet still feels too close - I made sure to tell him that I was pregnant. Not because I wanted to share the wonderful news, but because the longer I stood there talking to him, the more I worried that he was judging my weight gain.
Later that day, my girlfriend texted me: “Don’t I get a picture of the belly?”I told her I haven’t taken any, to which she responded, “You need to start taking pictures. I have some pictures but I am SO regretting that I didn’t take them every month.”
Why?? What in the world are you going to do with all those pictures?
Frankly, I have no desire to post progression pics for all of the world to see. I fully support women who want to put themselves out there and be vulnerable and track the wonder of their pregnancy, but for me, it feels like such a private thing. Also, I don’t think it’s that big a deal. When you get pregnant, you get a bump. That’s what happens. My husband loves my bump and gets excited about it; he even tells me he thinks it’s sexy. I love that, because this whole experience is for us. It’s ours to share. It’s not really about anyone else or for anyone else.
But people keep asking to see my bump. I realize that friends and family are excited and asking for a bump pic seems to be the thing to do. I promise you all, there is a baby growing inside of me. When he arrives, I’ll send you a picture of him any time you ask (as long as I’m not busy living my life).
Talk to me when I’m eight months pregnant. Maybe when I’m so obviously about to give birth to a human, I’ll embrace a baby bump picture. Until then, please stop asking for one. Or keep asking. I’m getting really good at saying no.
