The human body really is an amazing thing. Well, I guess I should specify that the female human body is an amazing thing. I'm sure men's bodies are amazing, too. But blah, blah, blah, theirs don't do half the crap ours does. Like bleed for a week at a time throughout our entire adult lives and not die.
Frankly, I'd like to see Houdini attempt that. Sure, disappear again. Whatever. Pass me a tampon before you go.
Then there's the whole "fostering the creation of new life" thing. The changes my body has undergone in the last few weeks alone are nothing short of mind blowing.
Did you know that my uterus is now a few inches ABOVE my bellybutton? What male organ stretches to 10 or 15 times its original size? (And men, don't flatter yourself. Even the porn stars among you can't claim that.) I mean, it's crazy to think that in a few short months, something that was, for the most part, undetectable inside my body has grown and stretched and can now be felt throughout my entire midsection.
Where did the other organs go that used to take up that space? I know they're in there because I still process food and liquids. But the fact that they just sort of shove to the side when required, but still manage to function properly is downright commendable. Even the biggest and most successful companies throughout the world struggle with that kind of teamwork. Take note of my stomach Microsoft! It's HUMBLE.
Because of those changes, the consistency of my stomach area is now hard yet pliable. It really does feel like there's something firm in there, like the ubiquitous basketball. But it still has some give to it if I decide to push on it a little. You know, just for fun.
I've been poking around more because the baby is finally big enough to poke back. I'm not sure if she's doing it intentionally or if it's just sort of a reflex response, but it's amazing to interact somewhat with this thing inside me. I now feel her movement all the way from my pelvic bone up to my ribcage. And my belly officially shakes visibly when she stirs. And, men, don't say you understand. It's nothing like gas. Even the really bad bouts after making the regrettable decision of downing an entire baker's dozen of chicken chalupas from that 2 a.m. run to Taco Bell after the bars closed last night.
And my boobs? Completely picking up on what's going on below them. Again Microsoft, take note of my boobs. They're not even in on the conversation and yet, fully aware of the details without even so much as a briefing by their department head. Now THAT'S communication. Take your overpriced iPhone and shove it. I have amazing boobs. Call them iBoobs, if you must.
Not only have they nearly doubled in size, but even my nipples have changed. Drastically. They're bigger and darker and, well, more alert than usual. I'm pretty sure they sense things. Like a storm coming.
It's like hitting puberty all over again. I'm completely enamored with what my body is going through. And, like a teenager who just filled out her first training bra, I'm obsessed with checking out the progress. So obsessed that while inspecting my areolas sometime last week, a little clear fluid came out.
I wish I could tell you that I handled that discovery with grace and poise. But I didn't. Not even close. The rest of my body spasmed in shock and nearly fell over backwards screaming at the absurdity of it all. Liquid. Coming out of my nipples. LIQUID!
Then I did what any woman would do in that situation. I ran to the computer and Googled "nipple clear discharge." Apparently it's called colostrum. It's a form of milk produced by the mammary glands late in pregnancy. And it's high in carbohydrates, protein and antibodies and low in fat. I was going to give Microsoft the point on that one for helping me determine what the hell it was, but, um, I'm squeezing antibodies out of my boobs. And if I packaged it in a container, I could stick one of those giant LOW FAT claims on the front. Yeah, I still win.
So, unexpected nipple liquid aside, the female body is nothing short of an amazing network of team players and expert communicators.
Disagree? I'll shoot colostrum in your eyes.