Week 21

How far along: 21 weeks

How big is baby: The length of a carrot

Best moment of the week: It was ultrasound week, I would get in trouble if I said anything except that (plus, it was a crap week, so really, nothing could possibly come close). It was weird because the sonographers are not allowed to say anything that might be construed as a diagnosis, so all I know is that all of the body parts she showed us were indeed there, just not whether they’re healthy or not.  The spine makes her look like a fish, and the liquid orbs of eyeballs make her look like alien. But the nose is cute!

Food cravings: Coke floats.

Symptoms: Nausea. Fatigue. Weakness. Muscle soreness.

Gender: I feel like this little kid has my back… she refused to wake up and roll over to give the sonographer a peek (again, the sonographer wouldn’t be allowed to tell us anything, but we would have the option of knowing when we meet with my doctor to find out the results of the ultrasound report). I’m still thinking girl.

What I’m looking forward to: The weekend. I’ve been looking forward to it since Sunday.

What I miss: Me. I miss me. I always thought being pregnant would be a noble endeavour that would allow me to release some of my physical insecurities, embrace a changing body, and be overjoyed at the miracle I am capable of creating. Instead, I feel I have lost control of my body, my emotions and any self-confidence I had. If I’m not actively comparing myself to other pregnant women, I’m being actively compared to them by someone else, and I’m constantly feeling like I’m falling short. And as I’m constantly reminded: “if you think it’s bad now, it’s only going to get worse” (which is, for the record, currently topping my list of “things to never say to a pregnant woman” because it is the LEAST helpful piece of advice that only proves to make it that much harder to persevere through the rough patches. It’s right up there with “But it will be worth it in the end”… well yes, duh, but that really doesn’t make me feel any better at this very minute). I know I willingly agreed to get pregnant, I am excited to have a baby, and I feel damn lucky that there hasn’t been any serious issues along the way, but between the insecurity, the guilt, and heartburn that’s eating up my esophagus, it feels like there is no more room for me. And for that reason, I hate being pregnant. While there is a very real risk of opening myself up to accusations, judgements, and criticism, I also know there are many women out there who feel the same.

Husband perspective: Oh right! You want me to say something for that robot that lives on your pants (I think that he means my laptop). I like that the baby chews it’s own hand, so it shows that it’s thinking, but not too much. It shows I could likely outsmart it in a game of math.
These pants keep falling down
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