When I was pregnant with my son, I hated my body. I hated the clothes I had to wear, I hated looking in the mirror, I hated being naked. My husband was always very loving, but I had always believed that beautiful was skinny. Beautiful was not a pregnant woman. The evening before my son, Tristan, was born my husband begged me to take one photograph. I, after much some complaining, agreed. I thought it was awful. The next evening I had my son, he was perfect. A few months later I came across the picture taken the evening before he was born. Somehow afterwards, it was awful anymore, I came to see it as beautiful. I wished I could share it, but its naked and so exposed. No one could possibly want to see a naked pregnant woman, I was ashamed of it. After a few months, it grew on me. I showed it to some very close friends, they loved it. I had never imagined anyone liking the look of a fat pregnant woman, but they did. Its since grown on me, I love it. My only complaint now is I wish I had taken more. The body I have may not be the body I ever wanted, but the two children it produced are worth so much more then a body, and are worth every single stretch mark and extra pound. I love my mommy body.