On a not particularly interesting morning in August, I took a pregnancy test for no reason other than I was feeling a little fat. I immediately regretted wasting the test (those things are expensive!) on mere bloating and boredom. But … it was positive!
A positive pee stick has always (or, twice, I guess) given me a feeling of slightly panicked joy – a rush of elation, with a hint of “well, things are going to get a lot more interesting around here”.
I only had a few minutes to tell Cory, from the time he got home that evening, til we all piled into the car to visit his family for the weekend (no way was I waiting 2 days), so I decided to dig out an old newborn diaper and write “remember how to change one of these” on it. I believe his response was something along the lines of “how did that happen!?” If you didn’t know, it was his sense of humor that first attracted me to him. My perpetually semi-sarcastic husband. =)
And now, here we are, just 6 weeks (or more… or less, oy) away from welcoming our second baby boy!
I wrote a lot more about the progression of my first pregnancy, probably because I didn’t have an active, demanding, adorable 3 year old at the time. I have to say, having a toddler show my belly love, as it grows through yet another maternity shirt, and hearing him say how much he (already) loves his baby brother, is beyond beautiful. I anticipate there will be fights in their near future, but it can’t possibly overshadow the friendship they will share. My home may not survive it – having two boys in constant (destructive) motion. It’s going to be awesome.
From the beginning, this pregnancy felt identical to my first. Uneventful, no symptoms. Then, around week 7, I was so sick, it took all my energy just to move from my bed to the couch, where I would supply our son with a stream of constant cartoons, if he would just let me exist in a non-functional fog (amazingly, 90% of the time, he did!).
It wasn’t a vomiting “sick”, it was a “I think I might be coming down with something” feeling, that hung around all day, every day. I couldn’t eat anything without making it worse (except sometimes carrots would hit the spot – who knew). I was always on the edge of dehydration, because drinking water really (really) left me feeling terrible (unless I drank it ice cold, with a splash of fresh lemon juice – which made it barely tolerable). I ended up taking 1/2 a Unisom (originally created to fight nausea, but since it kept making people drowsy…) with a B6 in the evening. This helped quite a bit, but definitely made me even MORE tired the next day. Blergh.
Til about 14 weeks, this carried on. It was really truly awful.
Then, without warning, I woke up and the fog had lifted. My appetite returned. I could keep up with housework. And I had evidence in the form of a little baby bump which seemed to show up a lot sooner this time…
And you hear that a lot, that it’s common to “show” sooner. This has certainly been true for me. I got ALL-AROUND bigger, right away (I also blame this on the fact that constant nausea made exercise impossible throughout the first trimester … I was still running miles at 20 weeks, with Connor)! Pants that I wore last time - almost up to delivery – only lasted thru the first few months. Normal bras only made it out for REALLY special occasions, because they were too constricting (and at this point, forgedaboudit!), and the adorable little maternity shirts I bought for my first pregnancy haven’t been touched – I think they have mysteriously shrunk, now only large enough for (I would guess) an 8th grader.
I have many, many more braxton hicks contractions (starting around 28 weeks) than I did last time, which keeps me from being too active – literally, just the act of standing seems to bring them on. Magnesium is supposed to help (water too) with the contractions, and fend off third trimester insomnia – neither of which seem to be the case, but it tastes like raspberries, so I take it every evening anyway, along with the other pills and things that are supposed to be giving the baby a super brain or something.
So, 34 weeks. I crave root beer floats, daily. Going up stairs might as well be scaling Everest. I am opting for strictly no-lace footwear. My favorite pair of stretchy gray maternity pants are usually past questionably-clean.
I lie in bed, wide awake for at least 3 hours every night (sometimes more), thinking about what it will be like to chug a glass of water without feeling it gurgle back up my throat because the baby is a space hog. I already long for that first meal after the birth – It will be grilled cheese, I think. I hope that I will be able to fit into some of my favorite summer clothes after he’s born, and the weather gets warmer. I imagine taking the boys camping, with their dad (this is definitely way more glamorous in my mind than it will be in reality, I’m sure… do newborns like camping?). And I wonder how the new little boy will sleep – better? Worse? Will we survive another round of newborn sleep (or lack of it)….
Then my toddler (who still spends 70% of his nights in our bed) sleepily shoves a knee into my face, while his baby brother gives a kick under my ribs.
I think we’re going to be alright.
I can’t wait to meet baby Scott #2.