Well, I have great news!
My chin hair is returning less aggressively.
My random mood swings have left me alone and are letting me be a normal human.
My excessive gas is repelling strangers and I love itttt!
I get the pleasure of saying "No, I don't like that" when people ask to touch my baby's home.
Things are beginning to look up as I enter the home-stretch of welcoming Zola. I no longer have worries of twins rumbling inside of me. I know she's in there alone because she tries to get my attention all day. She's bored. I'm not surprised though, I get bored easily too.
I feel great and powerful lately.
It's almost like the first trimester, I was nonchelant. Most thoughts back then were like, "Well, at least I know what to expect", even though I ended up getting thrown a curve ball because this pregnancy was by-the-book. Every sympton made a special appearance with this one. I was so sick and in pain, so tired and unamused, so grumpy and weak...One minute I wanted pizza and baked ziti for breakfast, then the next minute I needed a Snicker bar, then I wanted something spicy, like hot fries. And pineapples, I needed pineapples and strawberries. I hated talking to people about my pregnancy and seeing other pregnant women because I would get that feeling in the pit of my stomach similar to how you might feel while getting clamped into a large, loopy, roller coaster. You're excited, but you know you're scared as shit, but happily, so it tickles the butterflies in your stomach and makes them flutter all the way up into your throat. They flap their wings so hard, you feel like you're in one of those drreams where you're trying to scream but nothing comes out, you know... All of this is making you feel happy, though and that makes you a little anxious to just get it over with. I've also developed a few habits since my last run-in with child baring that I knew I'd have to quit. Drinking wine, or 2 for 1 margaritas at Friday's on date night, working out until my legs gave in, things like that. Especially drinking wine though. Easy fix: stop buying it, so that's what I did and I'm glad I did it. I do occasionally have a small glass of red wine because I can, but that's pretty rare. I have like a celebratory glass after each trimester to acknowledge successful completion of yet another stage of life-growing haha.
I was loving my cute little bump...
Then one day I had a heaping mound. Before I knew it, my feet were gone, my boobs were huge, and my nose wasn't too far behind every other expanding part of my body. Yep, this was my second trimester. The sickness and drowsiness stopped, my cravings were more controlled, and my skin was clearing up. Just as I began to enjoy my "glow", all hell broke loose within me. I became well aquainted with my tears, my laugh, my bitterness, my excitement. I even woke up one morning and looked at myself in the mirror, hated my hair and went to cut it all off. After it was cut, I was pissed that I let someone cut my hair and wanted to put my hair back on my head. Whenever I finished braiding or twisting my hair, I got frustrated and wanted my short hair again. Looking back, maybe Zola was just trying to get to know me before she met me. If that's the case, I've got another smart kid on the way. Or maybe she likes jokes and thought it was funny to make me laugh, then cry, then scream, then pout, then laugh again. Maybe she'll enjoy theatre and drama. Maybe she's a girl of many crafts, or maybe she's a Flower Child who's in tune with the earth and not afraid to feel. Well, I said all of that to express how glad I am to be over and off the grand "Maternity Mood Swing". It was fine when I was in my home but in public, shopping for groceries, I'd cry when I saw the next item on my list and think of all the good memories I had in my past about mushrooms, or spaghetti sauce, or carrot sticks. Yea, talk about awkward. Or when at a red light and late for work, I'd just laugh. I 'd laugh so hard, tears would roll down my face and then I'd cry because I realized I didn't want to go to work looking like I was just crying becasue I wasn't crying, I was laughing. I didn't want to explain myself about my tardiness AND my tears and reveal all of my business! Going to sleep was a 2 hour project and waking up was even more miserable and difficult to accomplish. Then of course, I had the everlasting comments on how huge I was for my size and progression. Anxiety and mild depression and lack of confidence was in full effect at this point. I never felt fat because I know what my body is working on, but I just felt uncomfortable. I felt like everyone was looking at me and talking about me...hm, I guess I was a little traumatized by being pregnant in high school the first 2 times, I kinda had this "oh shit, I look pregnant" stigma going on maybe?
But now? Now I feel free! I feel so excited and overwhelmed with happiness because she's almost here! Even if she popped out right now, while I'm at work, I'd smile through the whole delivery....well I'd be smiling in my mind. I'm sure whoever is around is getting cussed out until she comes through once I go into labor. You know what's funny? People ask me if I'm nervous and I say yes. They say I shouldn't be because this is baby number 3. My memories of being in a delivery room are very faint and blurred. I remember I felt like an alien species from a newly discovered planet the first time and watching a small human emerge from such a miscellaneous place made me want to vomit everywhere until I woke up from the whole experience. The second time, I remember my dad crying like a woman and I felt so sad for him having to watch me go through that experience before I was even old enough to drive and get a job or have my own place to live. I remember my mom in the delivery room the first time and the doctor made her come in and watch/help with the delivery. The only sound I remember clearly from that day is "Ooooh my God! This is sooo fucking gross!", followed by an awkward, squeemish yelp/scream, one of those noises you make in science class when you have to pick up the dead fetal pig out of a bucket of other little piggies that mommy once sang about while playing with your toes.You realize you have to slice it down the middle to examine its insides if you want that 'A'. Pickled clear juice squishes out just a little bit, but in your mind, your experiencing that classic Carrie scene first hand. Your teacher is giving you instructions on how to label this dead animal's kidney and you kinda want to listen, but all you really want is to not be there.You officially hate science. I think that's what my mom felt like. Her face looked exactly like mine did on pig-disection day in the 7th grade: Grossed all the way out, past hope of return to normality. I wasn't offended, I totally understand. I hope Malcolm has the stomach for this. If he doesn't, I don't care. Child birth is rather interesting to watch. I can't even look at it. And it sucks because they have this large mirror over your "birthing area" so you can witness your little bundle enter the world. I usually close my eyes tight enough so I see spots and speckles when I open them back up and it's all over. This time, I want to try to watch but at the same time I might be better off just focusing on my pelvic pushing efforts. Just a few more months and I'm going to be a mommy to another little me! I hate when people refer to me as a "New Mommy". I get offended because this ain't nothin' new! I'm a O.G. of mommy-ism and it best be recognized as such or you will not be granted the privilage of touching my belly.
Only 2 days before I get to see you wiggle around in my belly.
Only 104 days until we meet face-to-face!
My chin hair is returning less aggressively.
My random mood swings have left me alone and are letting me be a normal human.
My excessive gas is repelling strangers and I love itttt!
I get the pleasure of saying "No, I don't like that" when people ask to touch my baby's home.
Things are beginning to look up as I enter the home-stretch of welcoming Zola. I no longer have worries of twins rumbling inside of me. I know she's in there alone because she tries to get my attention all day. She's bored. I'm not surprised though, I get bored easily too.
I feel great and powerful lately.
It's almost like the first trimester, I was nonchelant. Most thoughts back then were like, "Well, at least I know what to expect", even though I ended up getting thrown a curve ball because this pregnancy was by-the-book. Every sympton made a special appearance with this one. I was so sick and in pain, so tired and unamused, so grumpy and weak...One minute I wanted pizza and baked ziti for breakfast, then the next minute I needed a Snicker bar, then I wanted something spicy, like hot fries. And pineapples, I needed pineapples and strawberries. I hated talking to people about my pregnancy and seeing other pregnant women because I would get that feeling in the pit of my stomach similar to how you might feel while getting clamped into a large, loopy, roller coaster. You're excited, but you know you're scared as shit, but happily, so it tickles the butterflies in your stomach and makes them flutter all the way up into your throat. They flap their wings so hard, you feel like you're in one of those drreams where you're trying to scream but nothing comes out, you know... All of this is making you feel happy, though and that makes you a little anxious to just get it over with. I've also developed a few habits since my last run-in with child baring that I knew I'd have to quit. Drinking wine, or 2 for 1 margaritas at Friday's on date night, working out until my legs gave in, things like that. Especially drinking wine though. Easy fix: stop buying it, so that's what I did and I'm glad I did it. I do occasionally have a small glass of red wine because I can, but that's pretty rare. I have like a celebratory glass after each trimester to acknowledge successful completion of yet another stage of life-growing haha.
I was loving my cute little bump...
Then one day I had a heaping mound. Before I knew it, my feet were gone, my boobs were huge, and my nose wasn't too far behind every other expanding part of my body. Yep, this was my second trimester. The sickness and drowsiness stopped, my cravings were more controlled, and my skin was clearing up. Just as I began to enjoy my "glow", all hell broke loose within me. I became well aquainted with my tears, my laugh, my bitterness, my excitement. I even woke up one morning and looked at myself in the mirror, hated my hair and went to cut it all off. After it was cut, I was pissed that I let someone cut my hair and wanted to put my hair back on my head. Whenever I finished braiding or twisting my hair, I got frustrated and wanted my short hair again. Looking back, maybe Zola was just trying to get to know me before she met me. If that's the case, I've got another smart kid on the way. Or maybe she likes jokes and thought it was funny to make me laugh, then cry, then scream, then pout, then laugh again. Maybe she'll enjoy theatre and drama. Maybe she's a girl of many crafts, or maybe she's a Flower Child who's in tune with the earth and not afraid to feel. Well, I said all of that to express how glad I am to be over and off the grand "Maternity Mood Swing". It was fine when I was in my home but in public, shopping for groceries, I'd cry when I saw the next item on my list and think of all the good memories I had in my past about mushrooms, or spaghetti sauce, or carrot sticks. Yea, talk about awkward. Or when at a red light and late for work, I'd just laugh. I 'd laugh so hard, tears would roll down my face and then I'd cry because I realized I didn't want to go to work looking like I was just crying becasue I wasn't crying, I was laughing. I didn't want to explain myself about my tardiness AND my tears and reveal all of my business! Going to sleep was a 2 hour project and waking up was even more miserable and difficult to accomplish. Then of course, I had the everlasting comments on how huge I was for my size and progression. Anxiety and mild depression and lack of confidence was in full effect at this point. I never felt fat because I know what my body is working on, but I just felt uncomfortable. I felt like everyone was looking at me and talking about me...hm, I guess I was a little traumatized by being pregnant in high school the first 2 times, I kinda had this "oh shit, I look pregnant" stigma going on maybe?
But now? Now I feel free! I feel so excited and overwhelmed with happiness because she's almost here! Even if she popped out right now, while I'm at work, I'd smile through the whole delivery....well I'd be smiling in my mind. I'm sure whoever is around is getting cussed out until she comes through once I go into labor. You know what's funny? People ask me if I'm nervous and I say yes. They say I shouldn't be because this is baby number 3. My memories of being in a delivery room are very faint and blurred. I remember I felt like an alien species from a newly discovered planet the first time and watching a small human emerge from such a miscellaneous place made me want to vomit everywhere until I woke up from the whole experience. The second time, I remember my dad crying like a woman and I felt so sad for him having to watch me go through that experience before I was even old enough to drive and get a job or have my own place to live. I remember my mom in the delivery room the first time and the doctor made her come in and watch/help with the delivery. The only sound I remember clearly from that day is "Ooooh my God! This is sooo fucking gross!", followed by an awkward, squeemish yelp/scream, one of those noises you make in science class when you have to pick up the dead fetal pig out of a bucket of other little piggies that mommy once sang about while playing with your toes.You realize you have to slice it down the middle to examine its insides if you want that 'A'. Pickled clear juice squishes out just a little bit, but in your mind, your experiencing that classic Carrie scene first hand. Your teacher is giving you instructions on how to label this dead animal's kidney and you kinda want to listen, but all you really want is to not be there.You officially hate science. I think that's what my mom felt like. Her face looked exactly like mine did on pig-disection day in the 7th grade: Grossed all the way out, past hope of return to normality. I wasn't offended, I totally understand. I hope Malcolm has the stomach for this. If he doesn't, I don't care. Child birth is rather interesting to watch. I can't even look at it. And it sucks because they have this large mirror over your "birthing area" so you can witness your little bundle enter the world. I usually close my eyes tight enough so I see spots and speckles when I open them back up and it's all over. This time, I want to try to watch but at the same time I might be better off just focusing on my pelvic pushing efforts. Just a few more months and I'm going to be a mommy to another little me! I hate when people refer to me as a "New Mommy". I get offended because this ain't nothin' new! I'm a O.G. of mommy-ism and it best be recognized as such or you will not be granted the privilage of touching my belly.
Only 2 days before I get to see you wiggle around in my belly.
Only 104 days until we meet face-to-face!
No comments:
Post a Comment