I realized weeks ago that I hadn’t been really writing about my pregnancy.
I started a whole blog last time around to keep a couple people in the lop with it. Now- 18 weeks and hardly a word about it.
It’s not like it doesn’t show or anything- I had worries about showing when I was a few weeks pregnant because I instantly blew up.
But the bump has stayed a manageable size, minus the quick changes in my wardrobe to stuid maternity jeans.
Yes, I said stupid. They never stay up on me since I have no hips and I had to go straight to the full panel ones because I already had a little pooch before I was pregnant- not a good look to have everything hanging out, pregnant or not.
And the couple maternity shirts I ran out and bought on sale are still on the long side, so I am in that akward stage or not a lot pregnant but enough to milk it a little.
In other words, I don’t quite waddle but I do get stuck sitting on the floor on occasion.
The last 15 weeks (yeah, count it) I have had a constant companion in bed, on the couch…
It’s endearing, but it’s driving me crazy.
Daisy was like this with my pregnancy with Wonder Boy- constantly right there, snuggled against my side or using the baby bump as a pillow. I haven’t ever quite decided if it is because she feels protective because I’m pregnant- or is trying to get all the love she can before she’s shoved lower down the totem pole. Poor kid.
I also feel guilty because I haven’t been really enjoying this pregnancy. Sure, I was a lot sicker longer, and then when I recovered the holiday season was upon me in a flurry of things to do, but it seems I just now have been sarting to look on Pinterest for ideas. Part of me is just been busy with life and Wonder Boy to do much but fight caffeine cravings and take prenatal vitamins.
I’ve heard over and over that you aren’t as invested in other pregnancies as you are the first one, and while I believe that it is OK I still feel a tweak of guilt for not giving the baby the time and attention they deserve already. And alog with the extra weight I carry compared to mt first pregnancy is also extra heavy burdens- burdens to be a good mom while trying to be good to myself too.
Along with some of the stressful thoughts floating through my head and killing my dreams, part of me is also looking forward to seeing me son’s look of pride when he introduces his new baby sibling to everyone in the Target shopping line, the same way he introduces me as “my mommy.. her name is Megan”.
Last night I finally got a little reassurance that everything was going OK- instead of small floaty feelings a big bump shook my belly and I knew the baby was telling me to quit it and go to sleep already.
Like it let me sleep all night, but I appreciated the first few solid hours.