The bulge continues to embiggen and I find myself unable to stop touching it and feeling its contours when my mind wanders or I am walking somewhere. What, exactly, is in there? Better yet, who? These questions are as big as the universe right now.
This weekend Ray’s mom and my mom and sister came to town to celebrate his graduation. The conversation, naturally, turned to babythings. My sister demanded that I would want an epidural during labor (a fair point and surely technically true, but what I’d really prefer is some “you can do it” support). Ray’s mom joked about all those years that women birthed babies without pain relief, and here I was volunteering for the agony. And my mom, when I mentioned that my most recent symptom seemed to be insatiable (at times) hunger, got wide eyed and gapey mouthed. “Ohhhhhhhh,” she gasped as the elevator in the Cannon Center acended toward the balcony. “Beeeee caaaareful. You’ll gain so much you’ll never be able to get it all off!”
Sigh. At least my sister jumped in and said, “No. Eat. Feed that baby.” Which … yes, exactly. The misery of sitting through a nausea-inducing hunger pang for the off chance that it might save me a week or so in the gym? Really, really not worth it.
Later in the car when I was explaining why I want to go with a midwife and stay out of the hospital if possible, I was citing statistics and studies and anecdotes that I’ve read/seen/heard from friends with children. Mom actually said, “You know, you can read TOO much.” My mom, the nurse! (I love her and value her input, of course, I just have a much tougher road ahead of me on this issue than I thought I would.)
Pregnancy [preg–nuhn-see] noun: The state of being constantly concern trolled.
This week my little passenger is roughly the size of a lemon. This milestone seems to have come with a brand new lower back ache that I cannot seem to shake. No doubt it’s exacerbated by my terrible sitting posture at work. I’ve got to bring in some kind of foot stool so I can elevate my feet and sit with my back straight. Usually, I throw a foot up underneath my opposite-side haunch and slump down. Terrible. This is what happens when you never select a posture pal. Your spine turns on itself!
I am officially in my second trimester now. That’s fairly surreal. If what they say about the energy boost is true, I welcome it. Man, I cannot stay awake for anything, especially not a movie. Of course, any movies I do try and stay awake for seem to do nothing but annoy me lately. I have officially turned into my parents.
Ha, speaking of that. Ray said something awesome to me the other day. It’s possibly the most romantic thing I’ve ever been told.
“If you get old and crazy like your mom, I won’t mind. She’s funny.”
Awwww.
Ha, I have a cartoon to give you. I won’t spoil the fun by telling you about it.
This is part of the reason (a small part) why I didn’t tell most people until 22 weeks.
You get pregnant, you get fat. Even if you’re not fat, unless it’s your job to exercise, you’re going to have weight in new places and hate it. So whatever. You don’t want to gain too much weight because of gestational diabetes or blood pressure problems. But those can happen anyway. I’ve known people who’ve gained 80 pounds and lost it all. And some people who haven’t. Eh, you’re young. You’ll be fine.
You’ll learn pretty soon to ignore people. Even your mom. And me. ha!
Here’s 14 weeks with twins, for comparison’s sake. http://www.girlsgonechild.net/2011/04/fourteen-weeks.html
Our friend and housemate Andria (Memphisotan) had a homebirth here in town and lurves to talk about it. :-) You should email her. Are you using Trillium?
I feel slightly mocked, but the offer stands.
That was a really sweet thing for him to say!