I am a bear. A giant, lumbering bear. I grumble. I grunt. I swat at anyone foolish enough to get in my way. I plow through my day with a snarl ready on my lips. Shawn and Stella have learned to steer clear of my volatility but Wolfgang, sweet Wolfgang, is not the brightest pup. He follows me around from room to room, waiting for me to sit down so he can jump up and perch his tiny little puppy bum on my Willie-bump. He covers my face in kisses and makes tiny little grunty noises when I scratch behind his ears just so. He's driving me insane and keeping me sane (well, as sane as I can be) at the same time.
In an effort to feel less like a bear and more like a glowy pregnant lady (ha! am so not a glowy pregnant lady!) I made an appointment with a photographer friend of a friend to have some maternity photos done. Which is one of those glowy pregnant lady things I said I'd never do. Not that there's anything wrong with maternity photos, I just never thought they were something I'd consider doing. I have friends who have had them done and the photos are gorgeous and my friends look like beautiful earth mamas wrapped in flowy scarves and translucent fabric and I appreciate the beauty of the photographs while knowing that it's just ... not me. At the same time, I was tired of feeling like a giant, lumbering bear. I wanted to remember this pregnancy for more than just extreme mood swings and a horrible aversion to toothpaste (which is now back, in full force, after a lovely months-long break.)
I'm so happy with the photos. It's all about perspective. I feel large and heavy and slow but when I look at the photos I see a beautiful, healthy baby bump. Less bear-like, more glowy.