Oh, little pregnant Mama and why do I say "little" when she's six feet tall but yes, she is, she is my little girl and although she is now 24 weeks along, why I am still a bit shocked when I see her with her growing belly? I'll tell you why- because about five minutes ago she weighed 24 pounds and rode around on my hip in a sling everywhere I went and that's why and damn, how can this be?
How can this be and how can any of it be and here I am, my skin turning into a nightmare before my eyes and my face dropping off its framework and my bosoms falling lower and lower and we shall not discuss my neck.
No. We shall NOT!
Ah, lah, children. Love yourself. Love yourself at the age of twenty and love yourself at the age of thirty and love yourself more when you hit forty- you are still so young and strong and beautiful! Love the way the skin still clings to the muscles, the bones, love the way your face has finally settled into who you are. And when you are fifty, love yourself fully and without restraint because you are truly at your most powerful, enough knowledge and wisdom accrued to let so much shit go that you do not need nor ever did and you are still strong and you are lovely.
And oh, hell, let us love ourselves when we are sixty too, older and crankier and age-spotted and wrinkling because we are still strong enough to carry a baby on our hips, strong enough to do the work that needs to be done, capable of so much, still, and we can accept the title "crone" and cackle with the best of them and we are soft to touch in our tender parts and we still love being touched and touching.
Oh gosh. I'm sleepy as an old cat. I yawn again and blink and wonder what I will dream of tonight.
We shall see.