The least documented pregnancy of the digital age

My bellybutton is freaking me out.

People generally spend most of their lives paying no attention to their bellybutton. There was that very brief period freshman year when I rocked a bellybutton ring, and a few years after that where I only noticed it when I caught said ring on the laundry basket. Then the ring came out, and I promptly went back to forgetting I have a bellybutton.

That is, until now. You see, now my bellybutton is doing all kinds of weird things. It's flattening out. It's widening in all directions. I imagine it won't be long now before it is almost nonexistent before becoming a freakish looking outie. Because BABY. Baby is pushing out my stomach and that includes that little innocuous indentation in the middle.

But it's not just the appearance that's getting to me. My daily examination of the area (because though the changes are weird, I like to know they're happening) has made me...just very aware. Here is the spot where I was directly physically connected to my own mother for so many months, just as my child is now connected to me via his or her own bellybutton. And that leads into the whole "I'm actually pregnant and going to be a MOM responsible for an actual CHILD for LIFE" train of thought that every (I'm assuming...hoping) new mom experiences. And it's freaky.

I'm not scared of pregnancy or even childbirth or the initial period of having a newborn baby dependent on me. It's everything that comes after that. I'm scared of f'ng this kid up. What about when they're no longer cute and cuddly? When they're all awkward? Or when they're teenagers? Teenagers are horrible! I know, I was one, as were my two sisters. And we sucked.

Obviously, my rational brain knows that this is a long time off (though not as far off as it was when kids were still hypothetical) and there's no point worrying about it now. But my rational brain seems to be shrinking in inverse proportion to the growth of my belly.

Speaking of the growth of my belly.

The internet is rife with ideas of how to document your pregnancy. Take a photo every week standing in a doorframe to showcase your changing belly! Keep a journal! And on and on. My brain can't even process the amount of stuff there is out there.

I'm pretty sure my kid would not want to one day read all the thoughts I had while pregnant (Dear Baby, Today you kicked me in what I'm pretty sure was my cervix and I gave you a lengthy speech about what is and isn't acceptable behavior...after cursing a blue streak). And photos! So far a measly two photos exist in which I'm sporting any kind of preggo belly, both of which were taken by my webcam in different parts of the house, one featuring the kitchen trashcan and the other the cat's litter box. It's high quality stuff. One doesn't even show my head.

The countdown on my weekly Babycenter emails (which are becoming a lot less "look what awesome things your baby is doing" and a lot more "look what horrible stuff your body is in for before this is all over") has become noticeably lopsided. The weeks that have passed are suddenly much larger than the number of weeks remaining to go. Before I know it, baby will be here and there will be almost no proof that it actually came from my body (except for the aforementioned "horrible things" that will have happened to my body).

Sure, even in our parents' generation this was normal. There might be photos from family gatherings or holidays or vacations where the mom happened to be looking pregnant. But apart from that, whatever. She had things to do! But in this day and age when every meal is photographed and shared on Facebook, every movement is documented on Twitter, and ultrasound photos find their way into the inbox of people you've never even met in person, it seems that not having a thoroughly photographed and documented pregnancy is viewed as already neglecting your child. But hubby and I talk to the belly, we spend an inordinate amount of time looking at the belly, and when we talk to family long distance we tell them all about the belly. It is anything but unnoticed and neglected.

But just maybe we should get a few more of those photos in before it's all over. So when this child is a rebellious teenager, we'll have something to look at and remember the good times when our child was sweet and lovely. You know, still in utero.