Hangin In There!

26 Weeks, 3 Days. Officially in my Third Trimester. So far, so good. πŸ™‚

The most common question I get these days is, “How are you feeling?”

Truth be told, it is one of the nicest, most polite, most PC questions one could ask. I’ve heard horror stories of the kinds of questions (or comments) that pregnant women get throughout the last trimester of their journey. I’m so thankful that this is what people choose to ask me, instead of the plethora of inappropriate questions that could get tossed my way… (I actually know a Mom who was asked, “Do you know who the father is?” WTF?)

Unfortunately, my response isn’t really the one they were looking for. Because I’m honest to a fault, and I’m sarcastic, my reply is “I feel like a boat.” The looks of confusion are hilarious. Surely they were expecting me to say things like “I feel fantastic” or “Couldn’t be better” or “I’m floating like a freakin’ cloud.” πŸ˜‰ But no – I tell it like it is. This tiny, 5 foot 3, 120 lbs string bean feels ginormous at just over 130 lbs. I can’t tell you how many walls, counter tops, chairs, and people’s butt’s I’ve “bumped” into in the last few weeks. It’s bound to set some kind of record. And my chest, which is just ridiculous (to me) at this point, is a magnet for elbows, shoulders, walls, the fridge, THE MAIL BOX (no joke), etc… I have zero concept of how big my body is, and I’m only now really appreciating the kind of tiny crevices I could squeeze through just a mere 6 months ago.

So yes, it’s true. I feel like a boat. Everyone politely replies, “No! You look great!” which I truly appreciate. Even when I know I look like hell. So Thank you all for saying so. It really does feel good. This pregnancy is SO different from my last on so many levels. Obviously, the fact that I’m not a Mom of two yet marks the most significant difference. Abigail was 2 weeks old at this point (which may actually boggle my mind more NOW than it did then. Jury is still out). But the pregnancy itself is on the complete opposite side of the field. I was so terribly sick with Abigail for the first 12 weeks. Non-stop vomiting, weight loss, nausea, bleh. And then 13 weeks hit and it was like a switch got flipped. I was happy, healthy, with no more nausea or vomiting whatsoever. I wasn’t tired AT ALL. I had boundless energy. And my hair! My hair looked like a movie star’s. It. Was. Fabulous. And the rest of my pregnancy (just under 10 weeks) remained in that happy place.

This go round, I wasn’t as sick. I only vomited a handful of times. But the nausea – oh man. Not only was it constant, day and night, but it lasted for-flippin-ever. Well past 13 weeks. As a matter of fact, I’ve only really been nausea free for about a month now. I’ve gained weight tho! Which is great news! But that Second-Tri energy I was banking on never kicked in. I’ve been exhausted from day one, and it isn’t letting up any time soon. Tired = cranky. Cranky = Unmotivated. Unmotivated = sweat pants and tank tops and no jewelry or make-up. And my hair is so NOT fabulous this time around. It is 100% throw-into-a-ponytail status pretty much 24/7. Boo.

The kids themselves are very different, too. Abby kicked at very specific, predictable times of the day. Milo kicks me ALL. DAY. LONG. Abby gave me gentle little taps and soft “swooshy” movements. Milo is attempting to become a professional Ninja/Soccer player/break dancer BEFORE he enters this world. (As I type, I can visibly see my belly moving in at least 3 separate areas.) Abby responded to noise, like Anthony’s or my voice, or lively music. Milo responds to the fact that I need rest. I stop moving, he kicks. I sit, he pushes in all directions. I lie down and he throws a dance party. It’s crazytown in there! He also already knows how to push my buttons. Because a large part of my brain is OCD (as in I just had to stop myself from typing “CDO” because that is in alphabetical order… yea…) I like things even and centered. And he has this super weird habit of shifting his entire self to one side of my belly, literally making me look lopsided. He’s doing it right now, actually. 85% of his body is bunched up on the right side of my belly button. It’s driving the OCD me crazy! πŸ™‚

So the truth really is – I don’t feel fantastic. This pregnancy has not been the easiest on me. Don’t get me wrong – I know so many others who have it so much worse, and I do my best to keep that in perspective. But the biggest thing I keep in mind through all of it is that we are, literally, hanging in there. I made it to the third trimester. I’m getting big enough for strangers to be able to identify that I am pregnant as opposed to fat. Truly, there is nothing “bad.” I’m dealing with the not-so-great, and reveling in the amazing. And Milo seems to be plugging along quite nicely. So I really do feel like I’m as big as a boat, and only getting bigger. But it’s really not a bad thing at all. πŸ™‚


P.S. New adventure that I didn’t get to experience with Abigail: I had my belly rubbed by a stranger for the first time, a couple of weeks ago… Yea, I did NOT like that. I wanted to swat her hand! I didn’t, but I wanted to! What on earth possesses people to do this??!!! There is a VERY short list of people in my life who have open permission to touch my belly. This includes my Husband, my sisters, my parents/in-laws, and my closest girlfriends (they know who they are). And truth be told, even they ask me before they touch me. Let me be perfectly clear. When you touch a pregnant woman’s belly, you are NOT touching the baby. You are touching her. She feels it. And if you would feel weirded out by some stranger rubbing your belly like you are some sort of Buddha Statue, then you shouldn’t do it to others! Someone please buy me the shirt that says, “If you didn’t put it there, Don’t touch it.” I’ll wear it with pride. πŸ™‚


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