23 weeks!
Well, technically tomorrow will be 23 weeks. But, let's not get technical.
Dude, I am so good at being pregnant now. I am turning into one of those obnoxious women that's all like "Being pregnant is a beautiful miracle, and I was never sick, and I'm perfect blahblahblah"
No. I'm not that bad. I hate those women (ok, ok, I don't hate them.) I can't deny though, things are going so well that lately I pinch myself. Aside from that scare where they saw a shadow or a bright spot (depending on which doctor you're talking to) in her heart in the ultrasound. That really freaked me out. Panic attacks. Anxiety. But, then we had a level two ultrasound at Walter Reed and doc assured us she saw no such thing and it's looking good in there.
Phew. A lot of phews.
I would just like to point out that articles and doctors are always highlighting that fat women have a higher incidence of EVERYTHING BAD during pregnancy. Not to mention they birth babies that are born pigs and then fly away. They're all like "oh, fearmongeringfearmongeringfearmongering." Well, I'm having none of that (knock on wood). Also, at my last visit my midwife said I was doing great with weight gain, because I haven't gained anymore weight. I didn't have the heart to tell her I haven't changed a thing. I just ate a chocolate donut. Oh, wait, I walk everyday, that's different. Like I told my midwife on the first visit: My fat grandmother birthed 12 healthy babies, without all the newfangled technology - we gon' be alright.
The other thing is, don't hold me to anything I'm saying now in the third trimester. I hear that's another beast entirely. Deal?
I'm also doing a good job at entertaining myself while my wife is away for a whole month. Granted, I'm only 3 days in, but I'm obviously in a very self-congratulatory mood today, so just let me have this one.
I'm trying not to complain while she's in school at Fort Knox training for the new position she'll have once we move to San Diego in October. I figure since I met her later in her Army career, after she'd converted to a 79R Permanent Recruiter (they run the recruiting centers you see in your cities) and additional deployments for her at this point are much less likely, I should shut my mouth and count my blessings. She could be across oceans, cultures and timezones, but she's just in Kentucky (that culture part is arguable), and she will definitely be there for the birth of our baby. So, this is a good time to honor all those Army wives that brave long deployments, pregnant or otherwise, those that birth babies alone and endure.
While she's gone, my job is to get the house ready to be rented out. I'm a pretty handy gal, but trying to remember that just because I feel pretty close to my normal self, doesn't mean I can do normal things. Without that reminder, you might find me outside on a ladder trying to clean the gutters of our two story house. Seems legit to me, but everyone else keeps giving me the side-eye, so I'm just going to dial it back a little. It's the hormones! On the good days I feel so good, euphoric. The flip side is the bad days feel like the world is crumbling beneath my feet and I'm falling faster and harder than anyone else. I figured I'd write this today, a good day, since this whole baby thing is a rollercoaster, and its easy to write when you're afraid, anxious and chronically worried, because there's so much to say, and so much of that, since there's a tiny person growing in your body and you don't have x-ray vision. Nice change of pace.
Just to put things in perspective so they don't sound too good to be true, I should say there is one thing I'm not nailing - smelling like a real person. Or, at least, the person I used to be. Nobody tells you that when you're pregnant you're going to smell like a total stranger. It's very weird. I have never in my life worn deodorant. Not because I walk around in a cloud of complete funk, but I just never had to. I'm not making this up. I make my friends smell my armpits all the time to prove that I'm not crazy. It just smells like nothing. Or, I used to, if I did that now they would pass out. I'm not even going to tell you about the time my wife said my nether regions smelled like chicken a few weeks ago. Which should have begged the question, baked or fried? Instead it just made me cry. Am I baking poultry or a human baby in there? Somebody please tell me I will go back to smelling like my old self once this baby is born? Just say it, whether it's true or not. Oh, well, I guess it's a small price to pay. I guess.
Lastly, she's moving a lot! Lots of thumps and swirls and cha-cha-cha's in there. My girl is a dancer, or a soccer player, or a gymnast, or just a normal baby doing normal baby stuff. Eh, can't hurt to dream.
No comments:
Post a Comment