Thursday, March 22, 2012

The one where I compare my pregnancies

Okay, 17 weeks (minus one day) isn't exactly far enough along to truly compare... the word implies that enough has actually happened to give us similarities and differences.  Clearly, at not even half way, there's a way to go on the happening front.

Overall, things have been largely the same: very little nausea, the tired that takes up so much of my energy,  no heartburn, some cravings, and best of all - no major medical emergencies to speak of.

Things were so much the same that I began to be convinced we must be having another girl.

Until, of course, we weren't anymore...

Which has left me examining my "similar" pregnancies a little more closely, and wondering if there are any (possibly?) gender-induced differences to speak of. 

Turns out, there are.

With Leah, I craved spicy.  Like, tongue-on-fire spicy.  For those nine months and probably three afterward, nothing I ate tasted even a little spicy.  My nose would stream.  Casey would cringe.  And I?  I would sigh and accept that even the spiciest out there was barely more than a little bland. 

I don't have that super power this time around... in fact, it's pretty much business as usual for me and my taste buds. 

With Leah, I was an absolute narcolept.  I've talked about this a bit before.  I slept like a rock through my entire pregnancy.  If I sat down, I was probably asleep within about five minutes.  I could wake at night without having any real recollection of it in the morning.

I thought at first it was due to the simple fact that because I have Leah, I don't rest as deeply; now I'm convinced that it's just different this time.  I'm an insomniac instead of a narcolept.  At least 3 times a week, I wake in the wee hours - 1:30, 2:30, 3:00 - and cannot fall asleep again.  It's awful.  Torture.

Chicken.  Last time I avoided it like the plague.  Even the thought of it made me gag.  I truly thought I was never going to like those foul fowls again.

While I'll admit that this time it isn't my favorite food, I'm not completely revolted by the thought of it.  I've even been known to tolerate and - dareIsayit? - eat it. 

If I get my way and we're really lucky, we'll have another pregnancy.  If for no other reason than I'm dying to know if these changes have anything to do with gender, or if every pregnancy is, indeed, just a little different.

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