Week 23

Pregnancy is weird. Well, I guess that is sort of obvious, but that isn't really what I meant. You try to hard to get pregnant and when you see those pink lines, or blue lines, or digital "pregnant" reading, or all of the above, it is hard to believe. At least for me. Then you have all of this pent up excitement that you can't share with anyone. Then you doubt it, then you go to the doctor, then you are all excited again. By the time you can actually tell anyone it is sort of old news. The shock value has worn off for you. Then you go to the doctor again, and now you have to wait for the gender scan, so it is exciting again. You wait and wonder and during that time the baby starts moving and you start growing (or normal people do). People can feel the baby. You learn how to poke it to make it move, or when it moves, or whatever. Then you find out the gender, and it is all exciting again, and you buy LOTS of stuff because you finally can. And now? Now what do I do? It is too far from delivery to actually get excited about meeting gigantore. Then there is that whole actually birthing gigantore thing to worry about, but right now, what do I do? The baby moves. A lot. Other than my kids no one finds that exciting any more. We go to doctors, I check my weight gain (I am FINALLY gaining the right amount of weight and am almost up to the minimum required weight gain). I take tests. The nursery is almost done, and we aren't going to buy more stuff until after my shower. The baby grows, I grow, I eat a lot, I sleep a lot, sometimes I cry for no reason. Mike steals my prego snacks and I freak out. But really, that is just sort of life, except now life revolves around me being pregnant. That is all I hear about, how big I am, or people asking about the baby, or whatever. Which I know is well intentioned, but it is also obnoxious. Sometimes I am the way I am just because I am me, not because I am pregnant. Sometimes I eat like shit just because I do, or sometimes I am tired because my job sort of blows are the moment and is really stressful. Not everything about me is growing a baby. And I have four more months of just waiting, and really nothing to be that excited for until we are close enough that I can start wanting the baby to get here. It is boring prego time. Yet, I am still pregnant. Which sort of sucks (obviously I don't want the alternative either). I would like to have a bottle of wine. Yes, I know I can have a freaken glass, but I don't want a glass, I want a bottle. I am sick of getting fat, even if it is a good thing. I am sick of counting my protein intake. I just want to be done being pregnant, and have my baby. I don't get why anyone loves being pregnant. I mean, I get why you are excited to be pregnant, and am definitely fortunate and happy to be pregnant in the sense that it means there will be a baby, but actually being pregnant sort of blows. Luckily I read an article today about hating being pregnant and how to cope (my favorite being, don't feel guilty about not enjoying being pregnant) where one of the lines was "Hating pregnancy and being a good mother have absolutely no connection."

However, I promised Rachel that I wouldn't get like this and stop posting pictures, so here are a few where I look particularly pregnant, thanks to Anne Taylor non-maternity silk sweater which clings like no other to my maternity pants.

I did go to a breast pump class. Yes really. It was informative, but pretty boring since I will be staying home and not needing a fancy shmancy pump. The $50 one will do me just fine.

I need to take pictures of the nursery, it is really nice. I think I also want to learn to sew, make cushion covers for the new glider and ottoman and some curtains for the room. I do actually know how to sew, but I don't have a machine. Recovering major furniture is out of my comfort zone though, so we will see. I can't really mess anything up with it though. Everything else is done really, we have a closet, dresser with changing station, mirror, glider, ottoman, table, lamp, linens, some clothes and I have selected diapers. Not a whole lot to do but wait. I hate waiting.

In baby news:
Baby's now the size of a papaya!
Baby's little face is fully formed...minus the baby fat, of course. The next task at hand for baby: sprouting two teeny-tiny nipples!

Weighing in at a pound, and at eight inches long, your baby is starting to really look like a baby! You can compare her size to a box of sugar or a bag of coffee beans. Her skin is filling out as the first layers of fat are deposited and her muscles grow. During the next month, her weight may almost double.

I guess I can get new shoes out of the deal, even if I haven't hit the 15 pound mark:
Swollen from head to toe? Increased blood flow, by now an old friend, is to blame. Consider a trip to the shoe store because loosening ligaments will cause your feet to expand even more in the weeks to come.

Your care provider should be monitoring your expanding uterus and weight. You should be feeling movement at this point. If you haven't, talk to your care provider. No feelings of movement could be a sign that your placenta is in front of the baby. It may also take more time to feel movement if you're overweight. As your baby gains weight, so do you. You've probably gained at least fifteen pounds by now.