The In-Between

Thursday I hit fifteen weeks.  This seems incomprehensible to me.  I know I say this all the time, but it’s true.  So I am officially in the “sweet spot” of pregnancy – the second trimester, the holy grail, as it were.  I’m no longer constantly sick, which is awesome, but not uncomfortable like I will be later.  In fact at the moment I’m not really much of anything.

Been having weird panicky thoughts lately because I just plain don’t feel pregnant – and I remember how a friend of mine who had a few miscarriages said she knew because she just one minute “didn’t feel pregnant” anymore.  I think though this is a normal reaction to the cessation of first trimester symptoms – again, my March 2012 WTE board is full of women freaking out because they’re not constantly vomiting anymore.  I was so used to being constantly sick that not being is worrying me.  Which is so dumb because I still don’t feel GOOD, by any means – there’s still that slight film of nausea all the time, and fatigue, and sore boobs, and weird reactions to food (things tasting weird, being all into something one minute and being totally sick of it the next, never knowing if I’m actually hungry or not because the normal cues are all turned upside down).  My abdomen has weird stretchy feelings going on (I often feel like I’ve just done a bunch of sit ups) and I always have a bit of a belly.  So, as they say in the Ragut commercial, “it’s in there”.  But my worry has prompted me to make a decision – I ordered a Doppler to listen to the baby’s heartbeat whenever I feel like it.  It was only $50 and should be here any day.  At first I didn’t want to get one because I figured NOT being able to hear the heartbeat would panic me worse, but at this late stage that should no longer be an issue, and I think it would do wonders for my peace of mind to be able to check in occasionally.  I won’t have another ultrasound for about a month, so the idea of sitting around here worrying all that time really doesn’t appeal to me.  I just need to know what’s going on in there.

Sometimes the six months until delivery seems like an eternity, sometimes it feels like it’s all happening way too fast.  All the things I have to learn, the stuff I have to get, the preparations I have to make, the decisions about every little thing, are totally overwhelming to me.  I keep hoping my third trimester is when I can really start kicking ass and doing all of those things…but that’s coming up mighty fast, and what if I’m too uncomfortable to do that stuff then?  Shouldn’t I be doing some of it now, when I’m still physically able?  My third trimester is also a time of a huge amount of tax work on my part (as is Jan – March of every year for me), and launching my event registration for next year, and making sure the event is set in stone.  So, there’s a lot to do during that time period, especially getting ahead of myself so that April/May/June can be spent just dealing with being a new mother.  I worry about March, especially, that last month – what if I’m totally incapacitated?  What if I can’t put on shoes, bathe myself properly, cook or buy groceries?  What if I can’t walk the dog or get up and down the three flights of stairs to my house?  Is it that bad?  I’ve known lots of nine months pregnant women and they seemed to manage all right, even working right up to their due dates.  I have this image of myself as this huge manatee-like creature with little useless flapping limbs and a giant unwieldy body.  Yet I’ve never known a pregnant woman to be like this.  Why would I assume that would be me?  I guess I’m just flipping out.

I’d love to blame all this neurosis on pregnancy hormones, but no, I’m always like this.  You don’t even want to know the kinds of things I’ve been writing in my private journal lately.  It ain’t pretty.  You’re getting the sanitized version if you can believe that.

In other news I will say though that as of right now I have no fears about labor.  I spent a lifetime being terrified of giving birth, and now that I’m just months away from that reality, I have to say it doesn’t really bother me.  After all, nearly all women do it, and many more than once.  I expect nothing, good or bad.  I expect a lot of pain, a lot of unpleasantness, and my body to be a hideous mess for weeks or months.  I expect it not to go the way I plan.  I expect to be disappointed that it wasn’t some religious experience and was just plain painful.  And that’s ok, because at least it’s temporary. A day or two and it’s over and you have your precious child forever.  Will it be worth it?  Absolutely.