In the Mid-20s
We've hit the 6 month mark. Remember, that's 6 out of 10, not 9. 4 more to go. I can't wait to put on a pair of jeans that make me feel long and thin. I am hating maternity clothes. I wear my non-maternity clothing as much as possible. A tight sweater does wonders for my esteem, even if I have to wear a belly band under it to avoid showing my navel. I don't even want the clothes in my drawers or closet. I want them gone. I'm not maternity shopping. I am baby shopping. Those clothes are so much cuter than the puffy-sleeved tents they sell to pregnant women. People are starting to notice my bump, but not enough to give me a seat on the subway. I feel good, though I fear a urinary tract infection may be creeping up on me. Typical stuff, I think.
The latest is that I can feel the baby moving more frequently, and, to be honest, it's really sweet. I used to hate seeing pregnant women rubbing their bellies, but now I find myself doing it. It's a way of communicating with her, saying "Mama's here, and can't wait to meet you!" Also, I don't want to miss feeling her move. When she does, it's as if she's responding. Of course, as soon as I grab my husband's hand to let him feel, it stops, but he has been lucky enough to feel it and see it a couple of times. He'll talk into my belly button, telling our baby that he loves her already and that makes me tear up. We wonder a lot about what she'll look like.
I worry that the much-discussed sleep deprivation will turn me into a psycho and that I won't be able to handle motherhood. Then I think about the actual birth, and I start to feel a bit of anxiety. I don't want to moan, grunt and groan like an animal. I don't want to poop on the table. I hope labor doesn't last for days. I hope that when I finally get to hold her, that I feel an instant connection and bond, though I've heard that isn't always the case. I worry about post-partum. I worry about how I will handle too many visitors, and too many people hogging her. Will I be nice? Doubtful. Hopefully her sweetness will make up for my lack of it.
The latest is that I can feel the baby moving more frequently, and, to be honest, it's really sweet. I used to hate seeing pregnant women rubbing their bellies, but now I find myself doing it. It's a way of communicating with her, saying "Mama's here, and can't wait to meet you!" Also, I don't want to miss feeling her move. When she does, it's as if she's responding. Of course, as soon as I grab my husband's hand to let him feel, it stops, but he has been lucky enough to feel it and see it a couple of times. He'll talk into my belly button, telling our baby that he loves her already and that makes me tear up. We wonder a lot about what she'll look like.
I worry that the much-discussed sleep deprivation will turn me into a psycho and that I won't be able to handle motherhood. Then I think about the actual birth, and I start to feel a bit of anxiety. I don't want to moan, grunt and groan like an animal. I don't want to poop on the table. I hope labor doesn't last for days. I hope that when I finally get to hold her, that I feel an instant connection and bond, though I've heard that isn't always the case. I worry about post-partum. I worry about how I will handle too many visitors, and too many people hogging her. Will I be nice? Doubtful. Hopefully her sweetness will make up for my lack of it.
posted by Tracy at 9:34 AM
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