So, I'm more than six months pregnant with our sweet little girl (I'm assuming she's sweet, we don't actually know that yet), and here's a little bit about life.
Last week I had my glucose screen, a nice in-depth one involving a four-day prep, eight-hour fast, and three blood draws. Honestly, it was more tolerable than I anticipated. Maybe that's because I forgot to actually keep track of my protein and carb intake during the four-day prep, so "prep" was more like "I think I've eaten pretty well today, right?"
It also helps that I don't mind having my blood drawn...except the third time, when the lady practically stabbed me. Well, not STABBED per say, but she pricked me hard enough that the bruising is still spreading five days later. Like seriously, that's my vein, please be gentle.
For those of you who remember my invisibility problem from last pregnancy, well, it's just as bad this time around. Apparently all of our children are blessed/cursed with superpowers in-utero, because no one can see me, much less the big round thing protruding from the front of my abdominal area. One time it was so bad that when I was driving through the parking lot I had to bring my car to a full stop because this man practically walked into it. Yes, HE almost ran into my CAR, not the other way around. I was almost the victim of a pedestrian-on-vehicle hit-and-run, which I had previously not known could happen.
Common responses to people seeing both my massive stomach and my massive toddler are things like "Oh, wow" and "You are going to be busy!" I've started politely answering that I already am busy, just in case they thought the toddler was an incredibly life-like doll. He's not. He's real, and he keeps me wonderfully busy.
In fact, I credit Judah with my health- thanks to him, I have to be up and moving most of the day and only have specific windows of time in which I can sneak junk food while he's sleeping. Were it not for him, I would almost definitely spend 90% of my time laying in bed and eating. Probably ice cream. Also some breadsticks, just for variety.
The second crib is already set up in the nursery and we have a few small diapers and a few girl outfits, so even if I accomplish nothing between now and April, we really would be ready to bring a baby home. The big thing on my pre-baby to-do list is artwork for above her crib- because obviously she and Judah need to have matching, side-by-side gallery walls with hand painted initial blocks and personalized artwork by their mother, otherwise how will they grow up to be responsible, capable adults?
Oh, and maybe I'll buy more crib sheets, so that I can actually change their sheets on what we will pretend will be a regular basis. But, you know, without having to do laundry. Because some things just won't get done often once we have a newborn.
Despite being two-thirds of the way through this pregnancy, I still forget I'm pregnant sometimes, which we will attribute to pregnancy brain. Twice now I've burnt my stomach when I reached to put something in a cupboard above the stove, didn't account for how far my belly extends, and accidentally leaned against a hot frying pan. TWICE. I'm crazy.
Also, almost every single time someone asks me "When are you due?" I have no idea what they're saying. I stare at them blankly. This sometimes causes panic in the other person as they begin to fear that perhaps I have just gained a lot of weight in a very specific shape and am not actually pregnant. Eventually I realize what they've asked, but then I usually can't remember the due date right away so there's this awkward pause while I try to come up with the words "April twelfth." Again, let's blame this on pregnancy brain, even though it may just be me.
If you could see me you'd probably say I'm nesting, but I'm starting to think that "nesting" is just my constant state. No, I'm not always happy about cleaning and organizing, but I do pretty constantly WANT everything to be clean and organized. The other day I full-on sobbed because we hadn't put our bathroom shelves up yet (don't worry, they are up now, so we can all relax).
When I was pregnant with Judah I tried to be relatively fashion-conscious, wearing cute tops that highlighted my belly without making me look bulky, wearing jeans and heels and skinny belts.
Well, this time I am exceptionally comfort-conscious. I've worn almost exclusively leggings and long sweaters for the past six months, and as most tops (even maternity ones) are getting too short now I've taken to wearing dresses and calling them tunics. My main goal in the morning is to find a modest outfit that allows me to wear leggings instead of real pants, because real pants are the worst.
At this point I'm pretending that earrings and lipstick somewhat counteract wearing huge bulky tops that make me look twice as big as I am, because those huge bulky tops are deliciously comfortable, so I'm going to keep wearing them and I'm not even going to feel bad about it. Other pregnant moms at the mall look so darling and I'm just like, "Hey, I could lay down on the floor and nap in this outfit without anything pinching or bunching, so that's a win."
And yes, I do want to lay down on the floor and nap.
And thanks to my well-practiced sleep skills that I developed during high school, I also know that I CAN. That, my friends, is resume material. Or at least it feels like it is when you're six months pregnant and are blogging on (a mere) seven hours of sleep.
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