Who put these toddler clothes in my drawer?!?

Hello everyone!  As I sit here with my feet up stuffing my face with hummus and Tostitos, it's hard for me to pretend I don't know where the recent need for new, larger clothes has come from.  But as aware of the issue as I am, I am inclined to argue that there's nothing I can do about it.  At least not for now.  You see, it all started a little over 5 months ago...

It was a cold, February night in southern Delaware.  The winds were blowing icy breezes and my husband and I were forced to hole in for the night. We were cuddled in close on the couch and...YEAH RIGHT!  I'm really not going to get into the logistics of the whole thing (and that's really not how it began), but you get the picture.  A few weeks later, I received a wonderful little early birthday present in the form of a pink line on a pee stick!

Since then, my size zero petite frame has transformed into a soft blob of starving.  My tired eyes shoot icy daggers towards anyone who as much as questions a decision I make-especially in regards to our Sprinkle-or worse yet-makes an unwanted suggestion!  (And believe me, most suggestions lately have been unwanted-no matter how worthwhile they end up being.)  Then, of course, I spend the next 15 minutes crying over the terrible things I've just said.  My pumps have taken a seemingly permanent vacation to the back of my closet, and my husbands horrible graphic t-shirts keep finding themselves draped over this little bulge in my gut.  My skin has begun the spark the nostalgia of high school, and my  once-cute belly button now looks like a built-in compass pointing me where to go. And speaking of walking...my balance-well that's laughable!  My days are filled up less with time at the beach and more with scouring Baby Bargains and Consumer Reports on baby gear that I'm still trying to figure out how to stuff in our home and tiny undershirts that snap at the crotch or the side or not even at all! Speaking of clothes,  I've begun the overhaul of apparel from my closet, and have sorted into piles of 'a little longer'/'next year'/' and 'who put these toddler clothes in my drawer?'.  Now I get why my husband used to complain that my clothes were too little to fold correctly.  I'm guessing that in the coming months I will resemble some sort of Italian meat (be it sausage or meatball) waddling down the street.

It seems like I'm hating this pregnancy.  I mean, that's a lot of complaining.  Really though, I'm still working on the 'giving up control' part.  (I'm a little bit of a control freak.  I know, you're thinking, 'NO WAY! NOT HER!')  In five short months, this 3/4 lb being has mananged to completely transform it's host into someone barely recognizable to me.  The hardest part for me has been telling myself each day that 'THIS IS NO LONGER YOUR BODY.'  One day I'll get it back...well at least the main infrastructure.  And so I may never be able to squeeze these glorious hips into a size zero again-but I'm thinking that between our daily amateur photo shoots and cuddle sessions, that might not be a priority anymore.  After all, motherhood is about sacrifices, right?   Don't get me wrong, there will still be times that I complain about the cottage cheese that has taken over my butt and thighs, and I'm sure that the end will bring some degree of misery and hormonal imbalance beyond what my body and mind will be able to 'enjoy'.  But truth be told, I'd trade my zeros for fives any day. (It it looks as though I might just have to...)