It's so strange to be stuck in this body.
It's strange to think this body instead of my body, as though pregnancy mutates me into nothing more than an incubator; something lent out to an unborn child. I feel no ownership over this swollen abdomen and these thick appendages. I'm used to thinking of myself as a runner, a marathoner, not someone who gets winded carrying kids up the stairs.
I find the same Talking Heads song playing over and over again in my mind and think that Freud would be proud.
But what can I do but tell myself the things I always tell myself? Just a few more months. Grit your teeth, get through it. It'll be worth it. And then you can lace up your sneakers and run to your hearts content.
It'll have to do for now.