A woman on the train told me this morning that I was beautiful.
Maybe you are making me more beautiful?
I spend a lot of time focusing on all the negative changes, the increase in my nasal girth and fortitude, the new stretch marks, the swelling of various parts, the numbness in my fingers. But maybe I could change this way of thinking for the next few weeks. Maybe I could begin to embrace this wide expanse of smoothness that is now my belly - and maybe I could rejoice in the movements, knowing they will begin to slow very soon? Maybe I could think about how thick my hair has gotten or how full my lips look?
Maybe that woman could see how much I love you?
I want desperately to teach this baby girl how to love everything that makes her special. Maybe I need to start with those things in me? Maybe I could be less sensitive? Maybe I could actually begin to hear people's compliments and let the other comments roll off me? Maybe if I can do it, then she will be able to as well? I want her to feel confident. I want her to feel beautiful.
Maybe she could tell how long I've waited for you to come?
I know there will be times when I get angry about the way the world is. But for now, I have nothing to complain about. Last night our waitress came over and asked when I was due. By the end of the meal she was begging us to bring the baby in after it was born. We are nice. Nice begets nice. Maybe it won't be as hard for you as I sometimes fear?
Maybe I can make the world see me as beautiful, see you as beautiful, just by seeing them as beautiful?