In the hallowed tradition of pregnant women on the internet everywhere, I give you the Belly Shot:
I love my belly. I'll miss it when it's gone.
Pregnancy is the the only time I, as a former (recovering?) bulimic, have been able to truly love my body. I have been practicing listening to my body's signals, when I'm hungry I eat, when I'm full I'm finished, When I crave a candy bar I eat one, not fifty. I've been repeating the Mary Poppins line (as she puts on the kids' coats for their outing in the park after "tidying the nursery"): Enough is as good as a feast.
I am hoping that some of the good eating habits I've learned will carry over to postpartum, into the land of whatever food-like item closest to my hand gets shoved into my mouth between the endless nursing, dripping, bouncing and crying. (Now with a toddler! Yay!)