What the f*ck is going on with my belly button?

The inevitable is happening.  Don’t worry guys, I’m handling things rather well.  I mean I’m pregnant right?  My body is changing in ways that only mean I’m creating life so I’m totally embracing it like a badass.  I’m discovering some stretch marks here and there. Big deal. My feet swell after a long day. Who cares? I have to prop up my stomach to sleep at night. Not even mad.  But seriously what the fuck is happening with my belly button? For real. Not cool.  My pre preggo belly button was damn cute. This one looks like a butthole.  Is this one of those times where I’m being unrealistically hard on myself? Probably. Damn it Bailey, stop looking at it. For real though, will this go back to normal? Or should I start saving for belly button reconstructive surgery?  Should I hold a memorial service for my old belly button?  I’m kidding obviously.
 This reminds me of when I was kid.  One of my asshole classmates told me my big toe was shaped like a thumb, and for some reason I NEVER owned a pair of sandals after that. I’m talking all through school. I owned every color of Chuck Taylor’s ever made, but if you thought I would slide my feet into a pair of sandals you got it wrong.  I had an extreme complex.  What the hell did I think people did, just stare at my feet?  Don’t we all have weird things we don’t like about ourselves though?  It’s usually stuff that literally NO ONE else notices too.
Anyway, I think I bought my first pair of flip flops when I was like 21.  My mom was all, “Hallelujah! Thank you God, my daughter is a normal girl finally!!”  It was seriously like I woke up one day and didn’t give a shit what my toes looked like.  (I actually have really cute feet, I swear!)  We should all carry that mentality with us.  No time for make up today? Who gives a shit.  Decided to eat ice cream instead of hitting the gym? YAS BITCH.  Have a full agenda for the day and binge watch Netflix instead?  You go Glen Coco!
We have to stop being so hard on ourselves.  We should wake up everyday with a purpose, and if things don’t go perfectly it’s FINE.  It’s okay to cut yourself some slack.  I’m not just talking about appearances here people!  If you have a shitty day, pour yourself a glass of wine.. Or five.  Here’s why I decided to start giving myself a break.  I deserve one.  Pretty mind blowing and scientific right?  Well you deserve a break too.  Chill out, put things on hold without beating yourself up.  If you’re having a tougher time than most, throw yourself a pity party.  Throw that pity party, but leave it early with your head held high.  It’s totally okay to feel a little sorry for yourself or your situation.  Have a breakdown, but make sure you don’t stay in that frame of mind.  Fix your mascara, reapply that lipstick, and realize that you are worth more than whatever you are faced with.
If I can love my “mom bod” then you can love and embrace your weird traits too.  Remember, I’m not like a regular mom, I’m a cool mom.  Okay, wow enough with the Mean Girls quotes right?  I’m getting on my own nerves now.  Go be happy and love yourself!  Oh, and for goodness sake WEAR SANDALS IF YOU WANT TO WEAR SANDALS.

that new new

To say my life has gone according to plan is comical anymore.  Even my weekends don’t go according to plan these days. Four days ago if you asked what I would be doing Saturday I would have said working a closing shift, then going home to binge watch a series on Netflix and spoon my dog. Well here I am, four days later, and I’m sitting in a beach chair listening to the waves in Daytona. What is it about watching the waves that gets your mind pondering? I’m looking down at my swollen tummy, it twitches as my daughter nudges me. My daily reminder that I have something to wake up for everyday for the rest of life. Even on the tough days.
Sometimes I can wear a smile all day. I believe in my heart that I can do it alone, and some days I hold my head high knowing that. But there are other days. Some days my body feels like cement as I force myself to get up, I look forward to my breaks at work just so I can cry. I need to get it out just to go about the rest of my day. I don’t always cry because I’m almost 8 months pregnant and alone. Mostly I cry because I’m angry with myself for being such a trusting person. I’m angry that I always see good in people, that I expect everyone to do what’s right. And I cry because I miss him. I miss what we had, and where we were headed. I miss the comfort of knowing we had each other.  I cry because I don’t know him anymore.  I cry because I’m terrified. Terrified my daughter will have questions that I won’t know how to answer. I remember being probably 8 weeks pregnant and having this sudden realization that he could leave at any time, and it’s MY life that is affected. With fear I realized he gets to carry on and have his life continue, unchanged if he wanted…but no, that would never happen to me right? I remember talking to a single mom one night. She was bragging on her son, and her eyes literally lit up when she talked about him.  She mentioned that she loved every part of being a mom, but it just felt like something was missing. I looked across the room at the man I love, and I thought about how lucky I was that I never had to know that feeling. Our love was the one thing I felt sure of. I wouldn’t have to go through what she is……..
My stomach is jumping again like Avery’s reminding me she’s right here with me. She always does that at the perfect time. I like to think we are already in tune with one another. It’s about the only comfort that I have nowadays. My heart could actually burst thinking that the next time I’m at the beach, we will be probably be sitting in the sand playing together. She is not only going to make every adventure I have more fun, but she is going to make every single day an adventure in itself. That’s the mindset I want to keep. It’s hard though, because I look to my right and see a family playing together. A little girl maybe two years old, smiling up at her dad as he teaches her the proper way to build a sand castle. I’m scared my daughter will wonder why she doesn’t have that.  So I will do my best to be strong and capable and all I can be for her.  I want her to learn from me. I want to teach her that she needs to love every part herself and who she is because falling in love is never a sure thing.  Sometimes people only love a certain version of you. Sometimes people make you feel like you are worth less than you are, and sometimes people just suck.  The truth is, you can’t ask someone to care as much as you do. You can’t force someone to fight through the bullshit with you. You can’t make someone love you, and you can’t force them to stay.  If you go through life believing everyone is good and kind, that everyone will do what’s best, and that everyone else puts others first you will feel a lot of hurt. This is nothing new to me.
One day, I won’t have to feel this way. Even though nothing makes sense to me right now, it will all make perfect sense in time. I won’t always look at other pregnant women and feel jealous of the support they get.  I won’t always be pregnant. I won’t always be hurt. One day, I want to believe that I’ll come home to my tiny best friend and maybe a couple more. I’ll also come home to a man that has no doubts about where his heart is, or who his heart belongs to. There will be no lies and no fear. This pain I feel now will be a distant memory that will make me cherish the life I have. If I have a bad day every day leading up to having this child then so be it. Bad days wont last forever, and there will be plenty of them until my time is up. The last time I felt real heartbreak it was also very sudden. Like a slap in my face, out of nowhere. I came out a stronger woman for it, and it doesn’t hurt anymore.  I can choose to let this situation make me bitter towards love, but I know that’s not who I am.  I’m choosing to just learn from it and let it go. This is only the end of what I thought I wanted.  I will meet someone one day who makes me realize why I was put on this path.  Falling in love is terrifying, but it is also a hell of a lot of fun.
Perhaps when a door closes, instead of banging on it until my hands are bloody I should just nail the damn thing shut and move on. Move on holding the tiny hand of a little girl who will be the very thing that heals me and makes me whole again.  No, I didn’t ask for this version of life, but you bet your ass I’m gonna embrace it.