26 Weeks

8 06 2011

I absolutely love being pregnant.  I have not made it through the first trimester and most of the second with the kind of grace and confidence with which I had alway imagined I would, but I have nonetheless enjoyed the journey thus far.  Even the constant need to pee, which struck, oh, ten or twelve weeks later than the books warn, and the indescribable exhaustion that continued ten or twelve weeks longer than the books promised.

Sometimes, I forget for a moment that I am gigantically pregnant at all, but only when I’m laying in bed.

I was surprised, as my belly grew round and obvious, to develop a sort of sheepishness about my obvious state.  Not with the people I see every day, not at all, but with people I haven’t seen since I swallowed an entire whole pumpkin and it lodged in my abdomen.  I’m not sure what it is, but I have trouble making normal conversation.  Like when the laughter tickles your nose when you’re in a meeting with your boss or at a funeral, I find myself having trouble in conversation with folks who haven’t seen my stomach gradually swell, and I’m afraid of blurting out, “Well, obviously I’ve had sex with husband at least once in the last six months!”  Or possibly: “YES!  I have been eating three pints of frozen yogurt a week for a month now!”  It makes it hard to remember to say polite things like, “Oh, and how is your mother doing?” or anything so normal as that.

Because how do you talk about anything else when your stomach is huge and there’s a freaking baby moving around in there?




One response

9 06 2011

Oh Jill, you crack me up!

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