Honestly

I had a friend who lives in Florida email me today - she'd just heard the news of our impending arrival and insisted that I keep her updated with photos.

I didn't have the heart to write back and tell her that she probably won't be getting any photos.

Maybe it's because I'm always the one behind the camera - that it's too hard to direct my husband to shoot pictures so that they come out the way I have them set-up in my mind. Or that I'm too lazy to set up the tripod and use the timer.

Or because our camera is broken and our memory card is corrupted - and I don't have the patience to go through the 20 steps necessary to take and dump one photo.

But truthfully I've got to believe the main reason why I haven't taken a single pregnancy photo is because I hate the way I look.

I broke out the maternity clothes yesterday. 15 weeks, that's got to be one for the record books. I never thought I'd have to wear maternity clothes at 15 weeks - the time in my pregnancy when my friend Miki was still bragging about fitting into her size 2 designer jeans, my size 8 pants were cutting off circulation to my lower extremities.

I did a fashion show for my husband yesterday - let him know the kind of sexy he had to look forward to for the next 6 months; the pulled-up-to-beneath-your-boobs, spandex-patch-in-the-front, huge-elastic-waistband kind of hot. He thinks it's cute - I, however, think it's hideous.

People who didn't know I was pregnant until now have started to ask. "When are you expecting?" they say and, although I'm tempted to reply, "Expecting what?" instead I say, "Not for a while - way too far off to be showing this much."

Those who already knew about the baby have also started to comment. "Oh you're getting so big!" they exclaim, as if it's a complement. To some women it might be - to me it's the equivalent of my husband telling me my ass looks fat in my favorite jeans.

I hate the stupid pregnancy t-shirts with sayings like, "Yes, I'm pregnant!" or "Baby". I hate going shopping and seeing all of the cute fall fashions as I make my way to the maternity section, where everything is loose and over-sized. I hate being told that I'm going to have to give up my 4-inch heels. And I hate people commenting on the continual expansion of my waistline.

I knew I wouldn't be one of those people who talks about being pregnant every minute of the day and I've always sworn that, although I know my life will change, I won't let this baby to change who I am. Never say never but I didn't enjoy hanging out with pregnant women or new moms before I got pregnant, I don't enjoy it now that I am pregnant and I don't expect it change my mind on the topic anytime soon. I doubt I'll ever be one of those pregnant women who think that they're so special and that somehow they're entitled to something just by virtue of the fact that they're pregnant.

But, I did think that I'd be sentimental - the kind of woman who takes pictures every month to document her growing belly and who keeps journals of all of the funny, insightful and touching moments over the course of the 9 month process.

Apparently things aren't at all what I expected.

During the first trimester, I didn't have any morning sickness and I didn't fall asleep on the couch the minute I got home from work as everyone insisted I would. I still crave all of the things I can't have (wine, strong dark coffee, unpasteurized cheese, lox and sushi) - unlike all of my friends who insisted I wouldn't want any of those things - that the sight or idea of them would make me nauseous - while I was pregnant. Quite honestly, I find pregnancy to be much like every day life - except for the fact that I'm fat.

And I find it difficult to get riled up over that.

I know I should get excited about my growing midsection - it's been a long time coming and I should be grateful that it's finally here, without shots, pills or other medical procedures. The baby is about 4 inches long now and, according to one of my email newsletters, if I were to shine a flashlight on my belly, the baby would be able to sense the light and move to the other side of my uterus. It's hard to believe (and also pretty cool) that I'm growing that inside of me - and I guess that a big belly and ugly clothes are a small price to pay for the ultimate reward. Just give me some time to warm up to the idea of documenting it on a memory card.