This post was generously written by Tatiana Powell. Tatiana is an American-born woman who met her husband online, let him whisk her away to Canada and now, six years later, is living her “happily ever after” with him, their one year old daughter, and two chihuahuas. An aspiring author and amateur chef, she spends her spare time chatting on Twitter under the handle @averygoodyear, browsing blogs related to parenthood and cooking, and working on her own site, It Was a Very Good Year. Thank you Tatiana! Learn how you can get involved in Exuberant Motherhood week here.

Although I know some women hate being pregnant, I loved every moment of it. Watching my body grow rounder and change to accommodate a new life astonished me; I felt powerful and humble all at once. Powerful  because, while my husband obviously had a role in this happening, I was the one responsible for nurturing and carrying our child. I was the most feminine I could be, connected to millenia of women before me. And yet I felt humble. Pregnancy and birth are unstoppable forces and I could only go along for the ride, adjusting to the body I could no longer control.

I often found myself wondering about the baby in my womb (more accurately, once in awhile I would think about something that wasn’t the baby!). The mystery surrounding her – who would she look like? what kind of personality would she have? will she like to snuggle or will she be standoffish? – stood in sharp dichotomy to the biological facts that are known about pregnancy. Today, I can hear her heart. This week, her nervous system is developing. Next month, she will be the size of a large orange. Next trimester, I will feel her moving.

I loved my pregnant stomach, even when the stretching skin itched so badly that I could have taken sandpaper to it. When I stepped out of the shower, skin damp and clean, I would stand in front of the mirror and marvel at my new body, my life-creating body. In February 2009, that body served me well through labour and delivery, and while I mourned the loss of my beautiful belly I hardly had time to consider it much; I had a baby to take care of!

Now, fourteen months after our daughter’s birth, I wonder how I’ve come to a point so far from the confidence in my body I felt during pregnancy. I see every flaw now. I don’t feel as beautiful. But I also don’t take the time for myself that I used to. I need to linger in the shower and pamper myself, or even indulge in the luxury of a scented bubble bath. I need to honour this body, this self, that created life.

So this Mother’s Day, I’m giving myself a present: I’m going to be less self-deprecating. If I can give reflect one-tenth of the trust and unquestioning love onto myself that I give to my daughter, it’ll be a massive improvement. Pregnancy is amazing, but so is day-to-day motherhood, and it’s even more intense work. We all deserve a pat on the back and a little time to pamper ourselves!

Image Credit: Maria from http://www.mommymelee.com