While this whole feeling-the-baby move is still a novelty and I’m just in awe of it, I really must remember to breathe while I’m expectantly waiting for the next thump…
I don’t know if a pregnant belly has always been referred to as a “bump” or if that’s just a trendy description but it is actually very fitting… which is nice change of pace since not much else is fitting these days. I can’t say I mind the trend since “bump” sounds so much cuter than “alien protrusion over which you have no control”. It’s the verbal equivalent of making a mountain back into a molehill. But because of my growing baby bump, I find myself miscalculating my actual body diameter, resulting in many inadvertent bumps into walls. And door jambs. And kitchen counters. I’ve bumped up my nutrition concerns. Well, more so concerns of fitting dessert in after dinner. Okay, sometimes after lunch and in between, too.
I do have to admit that I sometimes have to look down to remind myself that I still have a baby bump. I really do feel so physically normal most of the time but there are times I feel inescapably pregnant. For example, it’s been getting more difficult finding a comfortable sleeping position to stay in for more than an hour or so. Apparently you’re supposed to avoid being on your back for an extended period of time and sleeping on your stomach is obviously uncomfortable so you’ve got your choice of sleeping on your left side or your right side. Inevitably, the side you choose will then become uncomfortable in time and switching from side to side can be quite a process, what with trying to coax the extra weight from one side to the other without feeling you’re going to split your stomach apart, getting it settled back in (maybe with a knock of protest from the alien you’re harboring), and hoping you don’t disturb your neighbor. I can only imagine what the next few months are going to feel like!
No question about it–this kid is on a sleep-wake schedule, as indicated by all the tiny punches and kicks I’ve been receiving every few hours. Mike can finally feel the baby kick, although it took some convincing that that’s what what he felt and I had to swear up and down that I wasn’t doing it. Not unlike the promises made around the table playing with a Ouija board as a kid. Actually, we can both see my stomach move with some of the kicks, which is pretty cool and kinda gross at the same time.
I’ve definitely “popped” this week. Not that I thought I was hiding a bump successfully but I just didn’t think it was that obvious unless you were looking for it. Earlier this week I realized that my whole midsection looks like a prosthetic and my navel is getting shallower. I went shopping with a girlfriend and she had to ask what was going on as I giggled while trying on clothes. Last night on the way to dinner I caught a reflection of my profile in a store window and thought I had stumbled into a funhouse.
Alternatively, I haven’t really gotten a whole lot of attention from strangers, which I guess is a blessing. I’ve heard stories of some overly vocal acquaintances/coworkers/strangers inviting themselves into someone’s pregnancy. I have gotten some extra attention from my “friends” at the gym. The quotes are because I don’t actually know a lot of their names but I’ve seen then several times a week for the last 3 years so I can hardly call them strangers. One lady, a former Austrian gymnast still with incredible flexibility whose daughter just had a baby recently, actually put together a gift bag for us and I was assured by the husband of an elderly German couple that “on behalf of the weight room”, they were all pulling for me. I’m tickled.
Things have been pretty much nonstop since we found out we were pregnant back in early March. We had been surreptitiously stalking the housing market and spent most weekends at open houses and had other signficant home projects lined up for the spring in order to get our house ready to sell. I literally showed Mike an optimistically faint positive pregnancy test on the last day of our kitchen cabinet remodel. Porches were restained. The fence was repainted. New carpets were installed. Landscaping was tediously completed. And while we had the grand idea to sell our old place first before even considering buying a new one, we couldn’t pass up the opportunity to buy this house. Everything about it told us it would be a screaming deal, all the while we were completely unprepared to do it and really had to scratch and claw to get the job done. Fast forward to officially going under contract on this house and then scrambling to get our old house on the market and then spending 3 straight weeks of living gently in our own home for fear of on-the-spot requests for house showings and we were finally under contract on the old house. A day later we decided to start packing up the old house and the next week we had movers come in and ever since then it’s been a neverending process of getting settled in while subconsciously holding our breath that our too-good-to-be-true contract on the old house would somehow slip through our fingers. And somehow, through all that, we made it through most of the second trimester, nurturing this tiny, brand-new human being and finding out we’ll be welcoming a little boy come November. Whew!
Well, today marks the day that we can reclaim our simple way of life. Today we closed on our old house, and with that a chaotic chapter in what is turning out to be a quite a year. Since our usual summer activities and travels have been put on hold thus far (and winter isn’t looking much better), we decided we are going to go out with a bang. This will be our last summer with just the two of us and we need to take some time to really appreciate that. We considered all kinds of destinations, like Europe, Hawaii, back to Alaska, and then Costa Rica and even staying somewhat local but we ultimately opted for a vacation where the only things on the itinerary was ease and relaxation: an all-inclusive resort in Cabo San Lucas, Mexico. This is so not the type of vacation that Mike and I usually take. We usually put ourselves through the wringer of maximizing every hour of a vacation and seeing and doing as much as possible at the most economical rate. But here, the only finger I plan to lift will be calling to order room service. I’m sure there will be sights we should see but if we don’t happen to get to it, that’s fine by me. Point me in the general direction of a lounge chair and/or a buffet and I will consider the day well-spent. Maybe I’ll dust off some high-school Spanish. Then again, maybe I won’t.
I broke down. I finally hired a housecleaning service. The idea was born when we were contracted to have our old house professionally cleaned before closing but in reality, the idea itself was conceived several weeks before. Okay, I’ll just put it out there: I am primarily responsible for all things related inside the house (cleaning, grocery shopping, meals, bills, etc). I like an orderly house but I don’t necessarily like the act of putting things in order–it’s just a means to an end. You know, like having to work a full-time job. Hardly anyone just loves their job but it sure brings about good things. But as time progresses, there’s just more going on–more people, more house, more stuff, and as of late, more me! The latest revelation in that respect occurred last weekend when I was vacuuming and I noticed how much harder it was to push that thing around and I had to come up with some strategic bend-from-the-knees maneuvering to alleviate the pressure from my midsection. Something had to give. Yesterday, the Cleaning Fairies showed up on our doorstep and cleaned the house from top to bottom in a matter of hours while Mike and I worked in our offices. That lingering smell of disinfectant and sanitization lingered in the air for hours, having nothing to do with my own effort. I walked barefoot across our floors and my feet didn’t stick to anything. They even stayed the same color. It was lovely. This weekend, I’m not going to worry about the condition of our house for our guests’ arrival. I just might hit the pool instead.