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Pregnancy, Week 22: The kid perfects new tricks and I start wearing flare jeans

  Last week my delightful unborn child both impressed and annoyed me when he delivered several well-aimed kicks directly to my full bladder. As he is practicing this new trick more and more each day, it becomes less novel. Instead of marveling at how strong his tiny little legs are, I now tell him to chill the heck out while I speed walk to the bathroom.


  He is also learning to hang out in positions that I don’t find terribly comfortable. I’m sure it’s just one big warm, soothing happy place for him in there, but for me- the actual owner of the uterus he is currently inhabiting- it is not always happy nor soothing. I’ve taken to answering his prodding and jabbing by prodding back. This usually gets him to ease up a bit when he’s been throwing his entire weight against one interior wall of my still-new-at-this body. Even now, we are both learning compromise.


  There are a lot of things that I thought I’d be able to live without while pregnant- emergency ice cream, maternity jeans, online pregnancy forums. And while I haven’t yet turned to the internet for advice instead of asking women I know and trust, I have caved on the ice cream front several times.
  Could I muscle through the cravings? Yes.
  Do I want to? No.
  Do I feel like I am going to die a horrible death if my husband doesn’t drive me to 7-11 and let me buy ALL the frozen dairy I desire? Yes, sometimes.


   And despite those extra ice cream trips once in a while, I can still fit into my pre-pregnancy jeans quite easily. Sure, when I button them it feels like I’m punching my child in the face, but besides that they fit great! So I thought I wouldn’t bother with maternity jeans…and then my lovely sister-in-law gave me a few pairs that were too long for her. 
  I tried them on.
  Before I even looked in the mirror I thought, “Oh please look cute, because YOU ARE SO FREAKING COMFORTABLE.”
  I may never wear regular jeans again. Even after giving birth, who knows, I may stubbornly continue to wear maternity jeans between pregnancies just because of how delightfully comfortable they are.


  Yesterday as I was getting dressed in my new super-comfortable actually-really-cute maternity jeans I realized that I hadn’t worn flare jeans for years. I had a brief moment of panic where I wondered what sort of shoe one was supposed to wear with flares. After a moment I decided it probably didn’t matter, and that it would be best to move on with my life instead of panicking about footwear.


  And that’s what it’s like being 22 weeks pregnant.

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