girlfiend

A few differences between this pregnancy and the last:

I haven’t gained nearly as much weight. At this point (holy shit, I’m 32 weeks pregnant!) I’ve probably only gained about 20 pounds. By 32 weeks with the Fiendling I was up at least 40.

I’m sooooo tired. Not that I wasn’t tired last time, but this time it’s worse because I can’t nap every afternoon for 2 or 3 hours.
Even though I haven’t gained that much weight I feel enormous and have grown out of most of my maternity clothing. I am in dire need of a pair of maternity jeans and I’m way too cheap to buy a new pair with only 2 months to go. I’m down to one pair of pants that fit well and several pairs of sweatpants that are too long/too low/too tight. I hope it gets warmer out soon so I can start wearing my maternity skirts.

My feet and ankles haven’t really swelled at all yet. I was up a shoe size by 27 weeks last time.

The rest of me hasn’t really swelled either. I’m still wearing my rings and I can take them off and put them back on easily.

I’m not drinking nearly enough water this time. I still pee on average of 4 times an hour and that’s not counting the effects of coughing and sneezing.

Morning sickness lasted forever this time. I was done with morning sickness by 8 or 9 weeks with the Fiendling. With this one it lasted well into the second trimester. I didn’t start feeling human again until the third trimester and by then I started feeling uncomfortable.

Speaking of uncomfortable, I’ve been having Braxton Hicks contractions for weeks, only I’m an idiot and didn’t realize that that was what was going on. I never had them with the Fiendling and they don’t feel like labor contractions so I just assumed it was pressure from the baby. I wondered why I was feeling so much pressure so high up under my rib cage when I can feel that the baby is head down. It was only when I was strapped to the contraction monitor for close to five fucking hours on my birthday that they told me I was having contractions and asked if I felt them. Sure enough, when told what they were, I realized that I’ve been feeling them all along. Clearly I am not in tune with my body. It’s things like this that make me realize that any thoughts of unmedicated childbirth are just stupid.

Did I mention that I’m really, really tired?

After more than three hours of phone calls to Verizon tech support I still don’t have dsl. They managed to screw up everything. Twice. Which is fine for the time being, as we leave for two weeks in the Outer Banks on Saturday. Ah, vacation.

I need a vacation after these past few weeks. Just after writing about my fears, the puking ended rather suddenly, as did the exhaustion. Convinced I was going to miscarry, I made an ultrasound appointment to find out if my pregnancy was still “viable.” Nice way to put it, huh. Well, Junior, as the ultrasoud tech called it, was indeed viable. Boyfiend and I saw the heartbeat and everything. Junior’s about the size of pinto bean and its picture is hanging on the fridge. And now I can just be relieved I’m not puking and exhausted.

I’m in this weird limbo where I wish I didn’t feel like crap, but I’m afraid not to. Last night, at a wedding rehearsal dinner, the mother of the groom was telling me about her pregnancies. She was sick for all nine months of the first, five months of the second, four months of the third, then stopped feeling sick at three months with the fourth pregnancy. She lost the fourth. Same thing with Boyfiend’s aunt, who after three nauseous, puking pregnancies didn’t feel sick for the three babies she miscarried.

So now, the few times throughout the day, when I realize that I don’t feel completely exhausted and nauseous, I start to feel sick from fear and worry. Half the time I can’t figure out if I’m puking because I’m really sick, or if I just feel like I should be puking. And I can’t deny the exhaustion, but besides being pregnant, I’ve been working like crazy, packing and moving and unpacking and cleaning, so how much of the exhaustion is pregnancy-related?

And I can’t fit into any of my pants. You’d think that five pounds wouldn’t make a whole lot of difference, but nothing will button. I’m stuck wearing pants with drawstrings or elastic waist shorts. Or just walking around the house in a t-shirt and underwear. Last night at dinner, I had to unbutton my skirt just so I could breathe. My dresses won’t fit, either, Despite the fact that they’ll fit over my expanding waistline, they won’t fit over my expanding breasts. Boyfiend couldn’t be happier.

Just days before I took pregnancy test number one I was explaining to my therapist that I wasn’t going to get pregnant easily. I was convinced of that for two reasons. One, because I’m an Aries, the least fertile sign in the zodiac, and two, because it took my mother seven years to get pregnant. Obviously I was wrong.

This embryo has taken over my body. I’m exhausted and nauseous all of the time. I was pleased that I was just queasy and not puking until yesterday, at the walk through of our new house, when I found myself doubled over in the backyard. Several hours later, on my way to use the bathroom (as I now have to pee at least 47 times a day), I randomly puked in the sink. Pretty sweet, huh.

I am tired. Not just any tired, but that completely overwhelming kind of tired that can’t even be cured by a three hour nap. I can barely drag my ass away from the Dawson’s Creek reruns, let alone gather the energy to pack. We’re moving in less than a week and I couldn’t even get off the couch to get boxes from the liquor store. This is gonna be a long week.