I’m not entirely sure how far along I am now. 26? 27? 28? Somewhere in there. I was just informed by Angel that I’m 27. I’m sure glad that one of us is keeping track, although I’m a little concerned as to how he knows that so quickly….
Allow me to take a moment to welcome myself officially into the third trimester. I’m in the home stretch now!!! And while it was slightly terrifying to be told at 20 weeks to pre-register for the hospital because at “this point it’s a delivery either way,” I’m a little less freaked out that Mini Me is planning to arrive to the party before the invitations go out. Nobody wants to be “that guy” and I’m glad that he’s learning this at an early age.
Although, can I say: Holy Braxton Hicks contractions!! I know they’re “normal” but seriously, little man, cooperate with Mommy here because we still have 13 weeks to go and there are better ways to get your point across for me to drink more water than taking my breath away and then starting me in a progressive panic. On Saturday morning I told Angel that I am determined to stay out of the hospital while I downed my third GIANT bottle of water. I said this all because if I get more than 4 an hour, it’s like pulling the “Go directly to Jail!” card in Monopoly. Pregnancy books say that dehydration can cause them, so I spent the better part of my weekend drinking and peeing and watching the clock. I’m happy to report that thus far I have been successful in staying out of the hospital system although at one point I did count three an nearly burst into tears.
In another bad decision, we were at a pool party on Saturday and I exchanged my bottled water for a red keg cup of sunkist orange soda (living the life of a rock star, clearly). As a general rule of thumb, fruit soda does not have caffeine, but as I always liked to remind my mom when I was little “there are exceptions to every rule.” I haven’t had caffeine since February and about half way through my drink I started to feel a little…. off. Mini Me was clearly feeling the same thing because: OH MY GOD! What are you- Ouch! That hurt! Wait, little man, I need you to- wowza! Okay, okay! My little man went on a caffeine binge and decided to redecorate his room- with gusto. So for anyone reading this and keeping track, Sunkist orange soda DOES indeed have caffeine.
Mini Me is 2 pounds and 15 inches of adorable baby-ness. His eyes open and close now, and he enjoys moving (especially when given caffeine). His kicks are a tad more painful than they were before and they reach areas that I wasn’t aware his little appendages were long enough to reach. Seriously, I didn’t know it was possible to kick my left hip while punching my right rib, but I’m here to clarify that it is, in fact, possible because Mini Me is doing just that as I type this. He’s still breathing, drinking, and peeing amniotic fluid getting ready for the real deals.
With that said, here’s what I imagine that my baby looks like this week:
I’m in love… with a piece of furniture.
Angel went on Saturday morning to pick up our new La-Z-Boy rocker. So let me break down how the rest of the weekend went after:
Saturday 2pm: Rocker arrives at house. Momma-to-be (me) is out bringing lunch to her brother.
Saturday at 4pm: Momma-to-be arrives home to new, gorgeous, rocker/recliner in the loft in front of the TV. It’s love at first sight.
Saturday at 5pm: Momma-to-be texts family:Saturday at 6pm: I’m joined by a guest:
Saturday at 7pm: Starting to get hungry. Still unwilling to move for food.
Saturday at 7:05pm: Baby disagrees. I move for food.
Saturday at 8pm: Back in the chair, back watching HBO. This is the start of a wonderful romance.
Saturday at 9pm: Chair seems to do the job…
Saturday at 11pm: Chair seems to do the job well. Daddy-to-be wakes up Momma-to-be (and puppy) to put them to bed. A successful night in the life of a chair.
Sunday at 11am: Momma-to-be takes a break from nesting. Sits in the chair to relax for a minute.
Sunday at 11:30am: Momma-to-be is quickly joined by her fur baby who’s getting the hang of this:
Sunday at 1pm: Momma-to-be is woken by a swift kick to the bladder. Baby hungry and not appreciating the chair as much as Momma-to-be
Sunday at 6pm: Back in the chair. Seems to have a gravitational pull for Momma-to-be
This is the start of a beautiful relationship with my new chair.
Well hello, 26 weeks. We finally meet. This is the last week of my second trimester, and from what I’ve been told, 3rd trimester reverts back to feeling a lot like I did in first, but with a bigger belly and more nesting. So I’m going to enjoy these last 6 days of “second trimester glory” while they last.
To honor the end of second trimester, I actually let someone take a picture of me and my belly. I’ve been getting a lot of questions (mostly filtered by Angel from his family) about the presence of photos, to which I always responded that I don’t feel real cute and don’t need photographic evidence to remember that. Well, today I guess I thought I looked cute, so I had hubby take a picture of me after I was ready for work:
Hubby doesn’t know how to count to 3 before snapping but I have to take the good with the bad. For some reason this morning, my phone wasn’t appreciating the “focus” feature, but whatever. It’s big. I think that comes across.
Mini Me is almost 2 pounds now. I think I should celebrate this milestone with a two-pound box of chocolates. You know, in order to really get a good visual. And those flutters and sweet movements that I was feeling before? Yeah, those now feel like a rabid mongoose flipping out inside of a burlap sack (if I knew what that really felt like). In the last few weeks he has fully developed all 5 of his senses like a goddamn GENIUS child, and books now say that I have gained 16-22 pounds if I’ve been following a “nutritious and sensible diet plan.” Bite me, books. Little Man is perfecting his breathing with some nasty amniotic fluid but that will help him when he takes his first breath of air, so awwww. You breath that fluid in and out and swim around while you still have the “room.”
I think in the last few weeks I’ve come as close to loving pregnancy as I’m ever going to get. I’ve started nesting, nagging Angel to finish up painting the room, and went Danny Tanner on my kitchen. I have the cleanest kitchen in the state. Seriously, I scrubbed the inside of my fridge like my life depended on it because for some reason I couldn’t relax my mind knowing that there was possibly a bottle of salad dressing that expired last week! I’m also loving the way that I look in maternity outfits (finally) because I have enough of a belly to make them look the way that they are supposed to. So I look good, and I feel good, and I’m ready to quit while I’m ahead. I don’t mean that, Little Man. Stay in there as long as you need to.
And sleep! Oh my God, the sleep! I missed sleeping! I’m back to going to sleep early, waking up at a reasonable hour, sleeping through the night (less bathroom breaks at 1 and 4 exactly- which is odd), no crazy baby dreams, no anxiety. Just me and my sleep.
This must be the amazingness that everyone speaks of second trimester. I’ll do my best not to feel cheated that I didn’t get this feeling until the second trimester was ending.
Let’s check in with how my adorable husband is handling me rounding the bases home:
- Sympathy cravings- sausage? really?
- Loss of sleep due to crazy baby dreams
I usually forward him my “your baby is 26 weeks!” emails on Monday mornings and at about 9am this morning he was asking me where it was. So I’ll throw “baby anxiety” onto the end of the list for completeness:
It appears that I’ve lost all of these symptoms, and the poor guy’s gotten them! This proves that it really is a team effort. So other than feeling like a total Goddess, my week has been pretty dull. I would talk about my new baby rocker, but that’s going to require a post all of its own (Coming to a blog near you).