That was the moment I understood: my belly was no longer mine alone. It had become a public journal of human resilience.
A tiny shelf. Hardly noticeable except to my husband and my waistband. I post a hand-on-hip shot. The comments are kind. “You’re glowing.” (I am not glowing. I am nauseous and gassy, but I take the compliment.)
When I was pregnant with my first child, I hid my body like it was a state secret. I wore oversized sweaters in July. I angled Zoom calls to show only my flushed face. I was terrified of the gaze. What were they thinking? She’s too big. She’s too small. She’s showing early. Is that even a bump, or just burrito bloat? I Spend My Life Exposing My Growing Pregnant Be...
: Pregnancy is a time when many questions arise, not just about the physical aspects but also about the emotional and psychological changes one might experience. Sharing accurate information and resources can be incredibly valuable.
For me, exposing my growing belly has been a liberating experience. It's allowed me to connect with other pregnant women, to share in our collective experiences and build a sense of community. It's also given me a platform to speak out against body shaming and promote self-acceptance. That was the moment I understood: my belly
If you're a pregnant woman reading this, I encourage you to join me on this journey. Let's expose our growing bellies, let's celebrate our strength and resilience, and let's inspire others to do the same.
Why?
Because somewhere out there is a woman who lost a baby late-term, and she is mourning the bump she never got to show off. I expose my belly for her—as a tribute to the bodies that tried, and the babies that couldn’t stay.