i don't like self-portraits

since being pregnant i have been in this 'cloud nine' state of mind where i vowed to myself i would never walk down that path of feeling sorry for myself and how i looked, or complain to others about how i feel.  because in all reality, i dreamed about this pregnancy for seven years and couldn't fathom how others could even think about complaining about their gift of pregnancy to their friend who only ever dreamed of having that gift.

until now.

now i find myself wallowing in my own mind and very afraid of releasing it.  wallowing about how i feel and why i feel that way.  and more importantly, hating myself for even having those thoughts running through my mind.  because lets be honest: i am very, very, very, very grateful that this miracle of life (lives) were gifted to me and there isn't an hour in the day that passes where i don't find myself thanking God for his love and mercy he has bestowed upon my hubs and i.

and then there are the minutes in between those thanksgivings that i go back to wallowing.

i start hating mirrors.  i despise cameras.  i get annoyed at every friend who says to me, "take lots of pictures, you will regret it one day if you do not!"  even though they know full well that i am a ridiculously non-photogenic person and the thought of looking at myself in pictures prior to being pregnant could make my heart start beating at lightning speed, my armpits break out in sweats and hives start crawling up my neck.

can you imagine what looking at pictures does to me now?  now that i have a chin that has doubled in size, a face that is fuller than an inflated balloon, skin that is blotchy and unlike my old skin, etc etc etc?

i may just learn to fly if i have to look at pictures like that of myself.

but....

whose to say they aren't right? that maybe i will regret not taking them? that maybe one day i will think to myself, "what did i look like pregnant and swollen and carrying those sweet little miracles inside of me? was i beautiful? did i glow like some people say i do?  did i really look decently normal? will my babies really want to see that their mama looked (& felt) like an umpa loompa even though her heart of hearts was genuinely more grateful and felt more joy than she has ever felt/been in her whole life?  will they really care what i looked like during their baking time?  during the time when they lived inside the giant round blob growing bigger and bigger by the day? will they really, genuinely, care?"  

maybe. maybe i will think that.  maybe they will be right.  maybe i will regret it.  maybe i will kick myself. maybe they will have wished there were more pictures of me taken (because believe me, the hubs, despite my outbursts has snuck at least a picture a day and dealt with the wrath of my reaction to his picture taking).

OR...

maybe i know myself well enough to accept the fact that i am just not photogenic.
that the pictures i like to take are the ones i am taking of others.  
that the pictures of myself genuinely and always have, given me rashes when i look at them.

that when i think of my own mother, who died when i was 12, i don't wish more pictures of her. i just wish more time.  i don't wish she had pictures of herself with a belly...nor do i love the couple she has.  the ones i cherish are the ones where she is with me and my brothers.  the ones where she is holding us as babies and toddlers and little ones and her eyes dance and her smile spreads from ear to ear.
the ones where moments are being shared and spent together. loving each other. her loving on us...and us taking it in.  those are my favorites.

to be honest, i haven't even once gone looking for more of the ones where i was growing inside of her. i'm not sure why, but they just don't matter. i guess i figure that maybe her eyes would be a little like mine in all of them:  so unbelievably grateful and yet so unbearably uncomfortable.  i guess i just have this idea that her eyes will say what mine say, "i cannot wait to meet this little miracle. i cannot wait to be their mama.  i cannot believe that God chose me to be their mama.  they are my gift of joy and gratitude every single day.  they are the reason i now live.  but boy, do i feel like shit right now.  and my back aches.  and my face is swollen.  and i retain even a gram of salt if i eat it.  but i won't complain out loud, because i am genuinely, utterly and unbelievably grateful for this gift."

maybe that's the reason i am not that interested in taking one thousand pictures of myself during this phase of life. because my face and eyes will tell the truth of: i love these babies, these lives...but i sure do hate this forced smile or moment in front of this camera right now.

is that wrong?

i feel like i should be ashamed of myself and just accept that everyone loves pictures.

but i also feel worse about myself when i try to force myself into becoming someone i'm just not. i know i don't look like rosie pope or all those beautiful mama-to-be's in their skinny jeans housing their sweet basketball bump.  believe me, i don't look even close to that.

i could dwell on that fact.  i could dwell in the fact that i can't wear the cute - made - for - skinny -pregnant - lady clothes and send myself into a tailspin of depression, self loathing and hate, creating a self talk that i pray i never hear my children say to themselves. i could do that.

but i don't.

instead, i choose to accept that this is the way i look.  extra poundage, swelling, water retaining, skin worsening, sweating self and all.  i laugh at how much of an out of body experience this pregnancy has been.  i smile every time i hear someone say to me, "wow, you must be close...when are you due?"  and i respond with, "in a couple more months...still have a bit to go"  and one of two things immediately follows my response.  they either a.) ask me if i'm sure (which confirms how giant i am)  or b.) bug their eyes out at me, look me up and down and tilt their heads like a dog does when it's confused.  in which i quickly respond with, yet another, uncomfortable giggle and say, "well, there are two in there, so i guess the body has to make room!"

the point is this:  i am thankful.  every single freaking hour of every single freaking day that i get to be a mama and carry two beautiful miracles inside of my womb.  out of body experience and all.

i am.

but, i am not, nor have i ever really been, much of a picture taker.  i haven't.  i hope to be.  and i promise to get in as many photos with my wee ones once they are born, for their sake.  i vow to that.

but why start now?  why start when i probably have felt worse about my appearance than ever before?
and why the pressure?

is it wrong to just be content with a couple pregnancy photos and that's it?  is it wrong that i actually may never ever feel guilty about not taking or having a pregnancy photo shoot?  is it? am i genuinely being stubborn and not willing to grow?

Or is it possible that is how i tick, i am pretty self-aware of my own insecurities and securities....and i'm just not one of those beautiful, photogenic and eager to stand in front of the camera gals?

is it possible to ask for a little acceptance of me being me and not wanting pictures? is it okay for me to just want to hide from the camera's for a bit and embrace every single moment i am able to be present and sending warm and loving thoughts to these sweet babies?  is it okay to ask for others to embrace me as i am also?

i can't figure out why this is even an issue right now, but it is consuming my conversations with girlfriends (the ones where they all want to take pictures every time they are with me) or the days with my husband when he does surprise attacks on me with his camera.  i can't understand why after those chats and moments i feel like screaming and crying all at the same time and want to tell everyone to just leave me alone.  i like being pregnant.

i just don't like my picture taken while i'm pregnant!!

it's so so trivial.  and so not important in life. it's not. i know that.
believe me, i know that.

but it's part of my core.  my self talk.
my acceptance of what i look like physically indeed consumes much of my mind.  i'm not gonna lie.
i've struggled with this since i was 13 years old and my mom became sick.

i have battled days of running three times a day, eating nothing more than applesauce and carrot sticks and drinking nothing more than green tea and water.

my weight has fluctuated from skinny to chubby. frail to tone. i've battled obsession with health.  health with obsession.

i have major self image battles to still conquer and heal.  and despite that fact that i hoped with all of me i would not have them when my dream of becoming pregnant was gifted to me, unfortunately.....they still surface.

so i'm trying to embrace this gift.  these gifts.

but also trying to realize that my mind is its own worst enemy and i very much like to avoid the raw feelings and pathetic self talk that happens when i see myself in the mirror or on a photo.  especially now.

and for some, odd and crazy reason...it's not coming together very well and i'm not able to hold my feelings captive long enough to just give them what they want....without dwelling in it for hours after.  so i'm trying to find a peaceful point for myself and these babies.

i don't want them to feel these negative feelings that i'm feeling towards themselves.  i don't want them to house even a gram of that toxicity.  but what is my choice?

because in all honesty, i'd love for the pressure to be gone and stopped. i'd love for the days when we can just be together (husband & me, friends & me) and just sit and talk about life and love and celebration or struggle and even babies.....and not have a camera pop out.

i know what i look like.  i have some documents to prove it.

i will never, ever, ever, ever forget what i looked like...or how this felt.  it's funny and magical and beautiful and hard and uncomfortable and unreal and miraculous all at the same time.

i love all of those feelings and every thing they make me think of, pray for, grateful for and grasp.  i do.

i just don't like my picture taken.

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