No, I'm not taking
maternity pictures
My husband and I
established this fact around week 6 of this pregnancy: no maternity photos
would be taken.
My husband is my
champion. I could probably tell him I wanted to name the baby Lorax, and he'd
agree and defend little Lorax and I til the end.
So, when we were
talking to a family member last week they brought up a cute idea for the
maternity photos (which they assumed would be taken-- laugh out loud here as I remind everyone that we're both
graduate students and count our pennies precariously, and this person
definitely hadn't offered to pay for any such hypothetical pictures).
Anyway, husband told them without missing a
beat that we weren't going to take maternity pictures because we felt they weren't very us.
Said relative's jaw
dropped and they uttered a "really?" with baited breath. I smiled and
nodded, refraining from giving them much more explanation because I'm really
trying to work on feeling like I owe people an answer when I don't.
Also, don't get me
wrong. I love to coo at cute pictures my
friends post on social media from just about any type of photo shoot. I love the sentimentality of it, and the
artistry that goes into photography.
However, I do feel like it's valid to talk about why I'm not a fan of
maternity pictures for myself and why it can be a little grating to the small
camp that feels similarly.
My pregnancy hasn't been glamorous
Say what you want
about this, but I can acknowledge the miraculous nature of what my body is
doing without feeling empowered aesthetically.
There are times when I glance in the mirror and think "wow, how
cool that my body is holding another body," but I'm tired of being told
and having it implied that I should feel wrong for not feeling beautiful during
this stage of life.
Miraculous, but
beautiful? My body has literally been starved down from throwing up multiple
times a day for months, and then it added on that and another 15 lbs in a short
time after. My skin has had some of the worst breakouts since before I took
medicine for acne in high school. Oh, and I've been getting a new stretch mark
every day since Week 25.
My ribs hurt. My
neck hurts. I waddle. I'm not tall, and the baby is doing nothing but crowding
my stomach acid into my throat so that I have to sleep on a freaking pillow
wedge just to sleep.
Y'all, I don't feel
pretty, and honestly I have no desire to remember these little incidental
details. I am blessed and thankful to be
carrying a healthy baby so far, but hyperemesis and everything that has
followed are not things I am writing off as normal or minor drawbacks.
This really sucks
some days, and I have no desire to remember this period of carrying her when
she is truly the prize at the end.
Plus, if we ever
want to make another addition to our little pack it'll take an act of faith,
and the fewer reminders of this the better haha.
The pictures have nothing to do with my baby
Again, I'd rather go
and get more elective ultrasounds of her than have pictures taken of my husband
and I. I'm sure there will be some cute
pictures staged at the baby shower, but the thought of frolicking through the
wilderness or lounging across a chair half-naked and wrapped in a sheet of well
placed linen makes me uncomfortable.
Like, you can't see
the baby. All that is there is my stretched, sad, half-in half-out belly
button. Again, see above, I'm not particularly fond of this body, and I don't
know why I would have pictures taken celebrating a kid that you can't see yet.
That being said, I
will be the most obsessive mom-photographer and there will be no stopping me
from posing and dressing her in adorable get ups.
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