So today Sadie and Brett and I pulled ourselves out of the house and headed over to the birth center at the ungodly hour of NINE O’CLOCK. This is really too early to be leaving the house, let alone thinking about conversing with other people. I don’t care what all of you other people say, it just ain’t right.
We had to meet at this time though, because we were attending a group meeting of other knocked up peoples. Our midwife told us to bring Sadie, that there would be lots of other kids there. Uh, wrong! Instead there were a lot of pregnant people, some partners and only one very talkative girl. It was a bit hard to concentrate as Sadie was narrating her drawing, “Here’s the Mama, here’s the Papa, and here’s the baby.” All the while the woman trying to conduct the class is talking about pregnant aches and pains, trying politely to ignore the kid who is disrupting the class. Supposedly it’s supposed to be a place where we can all share our thoughts freely and get centered and stuff. I don’t think my two year old crafting elaborate make out scenes with her Shrek figurines is really conducive to that kind of sharing. So we’ll probably be getting a babysitter next time.
I’m still nauseated 35% of the time, which is much better than it was, but you know, it’s still being nauseous so that sucks. My pants are getting way too tight and I have to switch to maternity style bottoms for the rest of the pregnancy now. It’s only a short slippery slope to sweat pants, and I am trying so hard to stay away from those. My belly says yes, but my fashion sense says, “NO!” Stay tuned to see my pride crumble away as comfort and laziness eventually win out, if the last pregnancy is any model.
The kid is totally swimming around in there. Today as we listened to the heartbeat it kicked the monitor a few times. I can feel it now too, which is nice because it reminds me that I am really, seriously, for reals knocked up. I’m not sure if it is like this for every second/third/fourth time mother, but I am having a hard time translating the lack of my monthly period into the fact that I am pregnant. I mean, really? I’m gonna do that all over again? Hmmm, maybe my uterus just suddenly loves me and is taking a little break? Maybe the fourteen pregnancy tests I took were false positives? Maybe. That’s how I feel anyway, until someone kicks me from the inside. Then I remember, oooooohhh yeah.
So there’s an update for those of you who were wondering.