Missing Buddha

Since Ryan's death, my mind has been working in strange ways. Conversations or incidents that took place while I was pregnant will suddenly pop into my head. I certainly don't mind, though. Those nine months were the absolute happiest months of my entire life. And I do mean the happiest ever.

That being said, yesterday I was remembering how strange it was to look at my profile while I was "in that special way." I'd look at my belly hump and wonder what was going on in there with my little Peanut. On one occasion, Mike was watching me while I scrutinized my ever-changing body. He told me how wonderful, radiant, and beautiful I looked while pregnant. The compliment caught me off guard, since most days I felt as though I was waddling around like some lost duck and couldn't have felt more unattractive to the outside world.

But yesterday, I finally admitted to myself just how much I absolutely loved being pregnant and loved that Buddha belly. Despite the weird faces I'd make while examining my baby belly, I secretly loved how it looked and how it felt to rub it, especially when I'd get the occasional kick or nudge from my hibernating cub.

I had never felt so alive during that time and now I feel so empty and lost. Sure, I can still rub my much-smaller Buddha belly, but it's just not the same. That magical feeling that came from rubbing it is gone, just like my special little boy.

For old time's sake, maybe I need to go look at my belly again and rub it one more time for luck.