I would love to say, like I do every time I have a calendar-based post, that time has flown through this trimester, but no siree it hasn’t. It has dragged so slowly. Yet somehow summer has still gone by too quickly, and there just hasn’t been enough time for my to-do list to even look decently done. If I had the energy and wit, I’d make some comment about something to do with the space time continuum in relation to my rapidly expanding body, but I don’t have enough of a grasp of basic physics to even attempt that so close to bedtime. And I’m not sure it would work at all.
The good: Charlotte is really getting on board with this whole “baby” thing. She can’t sleep without tucking in her babies. She reads them bedtime stories, gives them bottles, and put them to bed. She knows a baby cries “Waa! Waa!” and that when they do, they need hugs, or kisses, or food or clean diapers. Fortunately, I’m jaded enough to think: “She’s just lulling me into a false sense of confidence over how well she’ll take this whole baby thing”. And just like her mama and her confusing logical gymnastics, she tells everyone she’s having a baby brother, even though she wants a baby sister (for the record, we still don’t know if it’s a boy or girl and as of right now, I am too exhausted to even think about which I think we’re having. Indicators based on kidney drainage and clubbed foot development suggest boy, but maybe feeling slightly more girl now?). She did transition into her new big girl room with its big girl bed with shockingly little issue, so at least that’s all settled. For now. She’s been great about letting mama sleep, understanding that sometimes mama is sick, and giving “baby-brother-baby-sister” kisses. In turn, that’s made me hate being pregnant just a little bit less. I mean, I’m excited for this kid and all, but next life? If I have to come back as a female, I’m coming back as a female seahorse.
The bad: I seem to have a rotating wheel of complaints this pregnancy. I’ll have a day where my hips will kill me. The next day, the hips will be fine, but the heartburn will be difficult to manage, even after nothing more than a couple of slices of dry toast. I keep thinking “If one of these symptoms just stuck around for more than one day, I could research, plan and create strategies to manage it” but the only thing that keeps going on is the random rotation of symptoms. Oh, and a terrible attitude. I actually left work early one day because I recognized I was being a poison in the workplace, and I told myself I had to get that under control before I came back. It worked. For a couple days. Being positive is hard when you never know what is going to hurt next.
The ugly: Yes, finding out there was some “Serious Condition” that our child may have was pretty rough, but now that we know it’s the best case scenario for something being wrong, and we’ve educated ourselves on what clubbed feet are, and what the treatment will look like, we’re just rolling with it, pretty calmly (that is weirding me out a bit). Part of me thinks that the reason I have stopped stressing out over it is because I’m so freaking exhausted. Almost fell asleep at work today. Almost fell asleep on the bus, but that level of exhaustion often turns into nausea which, in turn, prevents sleeping and exacerbates the exhaustion. I know that summer is the busiest, most stressful time at work, and that likely is playing a huge role in everything. But man, oh man, I am jealous of the women that say they get their energy back in their second trimester. At least I’m sleeping better most nights? Great. Now I’m sure I’ve jinxed myself.