I'm not sure it's possible for me to have neglected my writing on a more epic scale. I have no excuse, just that whole life thing that happens every now and again. For whatever reason, on this particular night, I have the sudden and irresistible urge to write it all out - and who am I to go against a calling?
We've been busy this February. My motivation has been lower even than usual due to the fact that - in typical me fashion - I have absolutely zero immune system while pregnant. I've had it all: stomach flu, regular flu, cold and now sinus infection. Have I mentioned that I hate February?
We did make it to Arizona to celebrate my grandmother's 83rd birthday, which was wonderful and a very welcome break from the Colorado drearies. People, there were swim suites. It was beautiful.
But my real burning desire is to talk about this baby, and record the fact that at 16.5 weeks, I am completely convinced that we're welcoming a little girl. Yes, I am aware that I'm 0 for 2 on the gender guessing game. Go ahead, don't believe me. There's a solid 50/50 chance I'll prove you wrong.
This pregnancy, though. It has been so ridiculously similar to my pregnancy with Leah - and so not similar to my pregnancy with Logan - that I'm convinced. Not that these similarities necessarily mean anything... we'll find that information out on delivery day. (YIKES! Have I mentioned? We're not finding out the gender!!!! Assuming I don't secretly purchase an ultrasound machine and try desperately to decipher what is sure to actually be my small intestine...)
What has me convinced we need more pink? So glad you asked!
I hate chicken again. GAG. I can't stomach it unless it tastes absolutely nothing like chicken, and don't even get me started on trying to cook it. That implies that I would handle raw chicken, and nobody wants me handling raw chicken unless they are super fond of cleaning up whatever happened to be for lunch earlier that day. Meat in general isn't working for me, but nothing compares to the complete nastiness that is chicken.
I can't stay awake to save my life. I'm exhausted all the time and can sleep pretty much anywhere (haha!!! SUCK IT, insomnia!! I so don't miss you!!).
What I really crave above all else is spicy. S-P-I-C-Y.
Although I can feel the pressure of the baby when it moves, I'm not actually feeling movement. I felt Leah around 20 weeks and Logan around 14. With this one, I know it's happening and can feel the sensation but not the movement itself - I'm not even sure that makes sense. I could absolutely chalk it up to gas pressure, except that I know better. Plus my uterus is all loosey-goosey like a sock that's been worn too many times. I'm not really sure how that affects the rate of fetal movement, but I'm quite sure it's playing a role somehow.
And so far, girl or not, this baby will very fondly be called "Hey You" after its born. Possibly for quite a while. It turns out, we only ever had two names in us that actually worked. That shouldn't be a problem, right? If Logan had been a girl, he would have been Addison, but somehow that name has worked its way out of contention over the course of the last two years. We're left with Hey You, which is growing on me all the time.
At a playplace this week, there was a mother with two little boys and a very, very new baby girl. I've gotten so used to people assuming I'm pregnant - much more pregnant than I actually am - that I took for granted that she would understand that I have a vested interest when I asked her this question: "How's three treating you?" Her response?
"Well... I don't recommend it..."
HA! Well... if you don't recommend it, let me just go back in time and work all that out! I'm seriously hoping it's more about her being right in the thick of the overwhelmed new mother phase than her actual philosophy. Otherwise, well, she's got a loooong time to think about her own choices!
Two things struck me this week: One, I am very nearly at the halfway point. It's hard to believe how quickly that flew by, and I have to make a much more conscious effort not to let this pregnancy get away from me without keeping in mind how special it is. Two: I have to actually have this baby. It's funny how that reality isn't a reality but a hypothetical until the due date is practically upon us. In the back of my mind, I've been more concerned about losing the baby than having the baby; having it still seemed like a remote possibility. This week it really dawned on me that at some point in the not so distant future, the responsibility of bringing our baby into the world will lie with me. Hopefully I can do a better job than I did with Logan!
I don't know that I have fully allowed myself to appreciate the miracle that is happening to me. Not the way I should, anyway. I suppose, in so many ways, that may just be typical of a third pregnancy; with so much else to tend to, my time is much more limited than it has ever been before while the process is that much more familiar. But that is not to say that I'm not grateful for the really big miracle taking the form of a really tiny human.
That still remains the greatest blessing of all.