Perspective

10 06 2011

I always thought that baby clothes were so cute because they were so small…

 

I still think baby clothes are damn cute.  But with less than three months to go before I give birth?  They sure don’t seem so small any more…

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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?





Dear Baby…

18 05 2011

…I was walking the dog yesterday, when suddenly you moved in such a way as to entirely squash my bladder.  It was instant: one moment, I was enjoying the cool sunset breeze and the next, I was completely overcome by an overriding, all-encompassing need to pee.

I was twenty minutes from home.

Luckily, nobody drove by while I was squatting in the roadside ditch, so there’s nothing to forgive.  But even if someone had happened upon me in that moment of shameful public urination, I would have forgiven you anyway.

Because just in case you didn’t know this already?

I really, really love you.

Even while peeing in front of someone’s house.





22 Weeks

10 05 2011





Hang Spring Cleaning, Says Mole

1 05 2011

“Believe me, my young friend, there is nothing – absolutely nothing –

half so much worth doing as simply messing about in boats.  Simply messing.”

The Water Rat, The Wind in the Willows

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The Next Big Thing

25 04 2011

It’s not so much my belly, which has been expanding and contracting for months now (at this point, it no longer contracts, though it still produces a startling amount of gas on a regular basis).

It’s really more my butt and thighs.  I actually tried listening to my thighs with the fetal heartbeat detector, half convinced that I have a baby gestating in each leg as well as one in my uterus.  No such luck.  It seems to me that if my thighs are going to expand until they rub together, I at least should be producing some sort of life in there.

Well, chronic heat rash produced by rubbing thighs is really the least of the degradations that have set in halfway through my pregnancy.

As a preteen girl, I decided that I should adopt children rather than giving birth, because I simply could not fathom having a doctor peering at my nether regions.

“Don’t worry,” my mom assured me.  “By the time you’re giving birth, that’s the least of what you’ve gone through.”

At the time, I didn’t put much faith in my mother’s words.

But after weeks of getting up multiple times in the night to urinate, I’m willing to sleep through the night even though it means I won’t quite make it to the bathroom in time when I do get up.  (Luckily, my husband is a late sleeper, so this humiliation is my own.)

And, sometimes, it seems perfectly natural to reach down my elastic-waist pants to scratch the above-mentioned heat rash.

Finally, after waiting three decades, I have achieved that state of mind I have always pursued: comfort at the cheap price of my pride…





A Couple of Firsts and a Last

13 03 2011

The baby, currently referred to as “Cinnamon Bear,” received his or her first piece of mail.  The lucky little stinker, it was not just a letter but a package, sent by Auntie Ceci and Uncle Hal.

Here is what was inside:

Awwww…

Baby clothes look really small until you have a baby growing inside of you.  Then, suddenly, they seem awfully big…

In addition to receiving Baby’s First Mail, I also debuted the first of my maternity clothes.

This was entirely due to gas and bloating.

I am rather long-waisted, so it’s hard to find shirts long enough for me when I am not expecting.  Now that I am some weeks pregnant, it doesn’t take much of bloat to push my stomach right out the bottom of the shirts I usually wear.  I discovered, however, that some maternity shirts are like very long, very stretchy regular shirts.  I am a fan.  I may never go back to buying tank tops and t-shirts from anywhere but the maternity section.

And the Last:  tomorrow will end my First Trimester.  By Tuesday, I will be 14 weeks pregnant and moving on to the next stage of this adventure.  I am feeling rather scared and superstitious again, since it’s been 3 weeks since my last midwife appointment, but luckily I have another appointment on Tuesday.  If all goes well, I will have some reassurance as I begin the Second Trimester.

I understand that I get to look forward to: more heartburn, more back pain, less sleep, more trips to the bathroom, and fewer of my regular clothes fitting me.

I also understand that it will all be worth it the second I feel the baby move.

It’s sounds like a crappy trade-off, really, but I can’t wait.








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