The Belly Button

I've recently been enlightened about the belly-button. One of many irrational fears I've held since I was young, is that if someone were to poke me slightly too hard in the center, chances are, their finger would go straight through.  I believe it was my sister who first positioned the anxiety for me.  After telling me that my “outtie” was strange, I began to push it in, working it slowly into an “innie” over the course of several weeks. After all, calling something a “button” only seems to invite the habit. I was successful in my endeavor and one day, proudly displayed my new “normal-looking” belly button to my sister.  She was a mastermind and simply replied, “Well, be careful or you’ll poke a hole right through your belly!” From then on, I formed the opinion that should this occur, my "button" would be much like the tab on a pop can, broken-off and lost in a sea of carbonation; likely to never resurface. It’s a scenario many of the leading villains in my nightmares have used against me. For this reason, I’ve steered clear of conversations on or anywhere around the belly button. 

With my newly protruding mid-section, on many nights I’ll find Josh drawing invisible pictures on my belly with his finger, talking and reading to our baby. As he was doing this a few nights ago he asked where the baby gets its nutrients. For some reason, my answer was “the belly button, obviously.”

“Oh”, he said, cocking his head to the left slightly and continuing with his canvass.

                At this point, if you are even slightly educated, you’re probably terrified by the thought of Josh and I parenting the future generation in t-minus-zero-months. In Josh’s defense, he may not have been paying attention to what I was saying, but I certainly was, and naturally began to question my logic. I suppose I assumed that my belly button had developed into a long cord (the umbilical cord) on the inside of me over the first few weeks of pregnancy and connected itself to the baby’s belly button.  He/she was drawing nutrients from a thin layer of tissue (which I deemed to be the placenta) lining my stomach around the cord. Perfectly sensible. Completely inaccurate. This idea planted fresh anxiety into my already wandering mind – How on Earth will they disconnect the cord on the inside of my belly button once the baby is born?? Does it simply tear off at the stub naturally, or will the OB need to bury an arm up to their bicep inside of me to make sure it’s a clean cut?! I’ve seen the umbilical cord of babies cut before. Wouldn’t the very same sever be necessary on the inside of me?! Again, if you’re thinking this is a practical hypothesis, we should probably be friends. If not … we should probably be friends.

Around the table at Josh’s mini-birthday party last week, a few gracious women I know opened my eyes to the obvious. I’m still confused of course…(my bloodstream providing all essentials this little one needs isn’t any more sound of an explanation in my opinion), but I am less afraid and feeling much more positive about the ordeal, not to mention, my belly-button. :)  Speaking of bellies, here is one with a 6.5lb baby inside...