I think I’ve conveyed this to many of you before…I have a flaw and it’s a major one, it’s called Vanity. Vanity is an evil little monster that I’ve allowed to live within the realms of my mindset for quite some time. I continue to feed Vanity and he continues to want more, he never seems to be happy, which makes me unhappy.

Last night, Vanity decided to come back with a roar and I let him eat away at my resolve and drop me into a deep downward spiral of emotional distress. Not good.

Lately, my husband has been pretty apt at rubbing lotion on my belly. Davey has seen some pretty huge growth spurts within the past week and my stomach is now stretching into something I never thought I would see. It’s metamorphosed into an atrociously obnoxious ball.

When my husband came into our bedroom last night, he picked up the bottle of lotion and proceeded to give my stomach a therapeutic massage while bonding with our son. As a side note, I once felt bad asking my husband to do this, but I now see that it’s an opportunity for him to talk to Davey and he genuinely seems to enjoy it (both of them do). After my husband left, I began to inspect my sides, hips, and stomach looking for those tell-tale signs that the elasticity of my skin isn’t what it used to be. I was almost finished and home free when I spotted on my right side, 6 stretch marks, faint though they were.

I immediately began sobbing (trust me I’m still ashamed of myself) and told my husband that I was NEVER going to get my body back to what it was before. Between my heaving cries, I croaked out that I would NEVER be a pretty mother, I was destined to be fat and ugly. Yes, I know…DRAMA, DRAMA, DRAMA.

My husband proceeded to do nothing more than stop everything he was doing, climb in bed with me and wrap me in his arms. He told me I was beautiful inside and out and that would never change. And then he did nothing more than hold me in his arms as I cried uncontrollably.

I ended up crying myself to sleep last night, silently berating myself for being so vain, fo allowing that evil monster into my life, but also I did the unthinkable…I asked my son if he could perhaps not grow too much bigger.

I can hear all of you now! You’re all gasping and speaking about how selfish I am and trust me I’ve hated myself for asking my son such a self-serving question.

So, each day I suppose I will continue to ward off Vanity, although I’m sure my weakness will allow him back in. I hope I’m not the only mother-to-be who’s had such vile thoughts and if I am, I continue to hang my head in shame. If not, can any of you please tell me how to get past this?