Saturday was what I like to call a super pregnant day. Everything was made more difficult, either by my growing belly, my continuing pelvic pain, or becoming easily winded. I felt every ounce of the 19 pounds I’ve gained so far. There was much grunting, like when I was getting dressed or trying to get off the couch. I couldn’t sit through a 2-hour movie without frequently shifting positions to alleviate the pressure of all my organs being pushed up into my ribs. And all day, I kept thinking, I can’t be this uncomfortable already. I have ten more weeks to go.
There’s this woman at work, a nurse, who shares all kinds of medical tidbits and personal stories designed to–do what, exactly, I have no idea. She recently told me that when she was pregnant with her daughter, the baby would scratch at her cervix. I wish I could claim I have no idea what that feels like, but yes, it’s as much fun as it sounds.
I love feeling all of Thumper’s movements, and I’m usually thrilled to guess her position and which body part is poking out where (because I usually have no idea). She gets the hiccups at least once a day, and even Hubby can feel them. But this? This is not the most pleasant of pregnancy experiences. The other night it felt like she was trying to claw her way out of my uterus.
It’s been better since Saturday, but I know I’m getting to the point in this pregnancy where I’m going to have more uncomfortable days than not. Still, things have been good overall.
It seems all anyone can talk about is how big my belly is getting. Strangers comment on it without hesitation. Last Friday I went to a sandwich shop for lunch. The girl on the other side of the counter couldn’t stop grinning at me. At first, I thought maybe she knew me. Was she the mother, sister, or aunt of one of my kiddos at work? Then she spoke up:
Sandwich girl (pointing to my belly): Looks like there’s a baby in there.
Me: There sure is.
SG: That’s so exciting! You’re the second pregnant woman I’ve seen today! How far along are you?
Me: 30 weeks.
SG: Wow! Do you know if it’s a boy or a girl?
Me: She’s a girl.
SG: AWWWWWW! What’s the baby craving today?
Finally she got down to the business of making my sandwich, and I thought that was the end of the baby talk. But I would be wrong. As I was paying, she asked, “Do you have a name picked out?”
I hesitated for a moment. How mad could Hubby really be if I shared our chosen name with the girl who made my sandwich? A virtual stranger? But I didn’t. Instead, I said, “We’re working on it.”
Yesterday, even a four-year-old pointed and asked, “Is there a baby in there?” It was kind of adorable.
I have been more hormonal/emotional lately. Quick to tears. We watched Instructions Not Included this weekend, and the ending totally blindsided me, leaving me bawling in the bathroom. Partly because Hubby said he added it to our Netflix queue because it was about a father and daughter, and partly because, watching it, I couldn’t help thinking, What if that was our daughter?
I had a dream last week that I could see Thumper’s face through my belly, which had become transparent. She was the most beautiful baby I’ve ever seen. She had Hubby’s brown eyes and dark hair, my nose and widow’s peak. It put me in a good mood the whole next day.
And yet, I still look at my reflection and marvel. That growing belly is really mine? Our child is in there, growing and thriving? In a couple of months, we’ll finally become a family of three? Somehow, I still can’t fathom that this is real.
Hubby, on the other hand, is becoming more and more excited. He’s talking about learning how to braid hair. He’s already jealous that I’ll be the one staying home with Thumper while he goes to work. He looked at me the other night and said, “I’m going to be a father.”
I don’t know when (or if) this is all going to sink in. But the closer we get to meeting our little bunny, the more excited and worried and giddy and wistful and protective and excited and nervous and scared and excited we get.