Seventeen weeks into nurturing the life growing within me, I found solace in the comfort of my parents’ breakfast nook. With each bite of Cinnamon Toast Crunch or the indulgent sweetness of a Cinnabon or a pack of brown sugar cinnamon Pop-Tarts (I can’t remember which one it was), I embarked on a journey of more than just satisfying pregnancy cravings. It marked the tentative steps towards healing a longstanding unsettled relationship with food. And, it was in conjunction with my nostalgic breakfast choice that my babe decided to remind me of her continuous growth inside my belly. She spun, sending butterfly like tingles from the space beneath my belly button to the top of my pelvic floor. Everything was becoming more real. Everything was becoming more important. Every choice was more significant. Everything was more. And because everything was more, everything was also changing.
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