Poor second baby. I just realized – no…that’s not even true. Someone recently pointed out…OK. Sigh. Someone pointed out a month or two ago that I haven’t posted any pregnancy pictures on this blog. Or…more accurately, even mentioned that I was pregnant. Oops.
So…ummm…yeah, I’m pregnant. And, as I write this, very, very pregnant. Like…due in 6 days pregnant.
It’s not that I haven’t been excited about being pregnant. On the contrary! After Raines’ freak-show delivery, Mike and I honestly thought we shouldn’t get pregnant again. We were actually looking into adoption….but….sigh. As I told Mike, I just wanted to do it again. Be pregnant again. I wasn’t ready to turn my back on that whole experience. But, you know, safely. Just one more time.
So we went back to the doctors, talked to specialists…and found one (one!!) OB who told us (after talking to the doctors involved with Raines’ birth AND reading through my file), that it was her professional opinion that we shouldn’t worry about a repeat freak-show episode. Go and have children. Like any “normal” couple. And she managed to say this with no hesitation or any nervous body language.
(Up until this point, we had met with other supportive OBs…but they always looked like they needed a stiff drink after telling us that we would “probably” be fine. I swear some had thought bubbles over their head saying “Get out of my office! My insurance rates are already high!”)
That was last year….right before we left for Christmas holiday. Were we happy? Ecstatic. Sort of. It was one of those decisions that we could easily over-think. So by the time March rolled around, and I spent my week at Gulf Shores feeling both tired and fat…and then coming home and literally falling asleep at the dining room table (seriously – Mike left to give R a bath, and I, still seated, just put my head down and dozed off)…we were pregnant.
But it was still a shock. It’s one thing to talk about it…another thing to realize that YES. I would have to deliver another baby. When I walked into the bathroom where Mike was bathing R, and handed him the pregnancy test…I was expecting….well…something different, I guess. Mike stared at me: “What is this thing? Why are you handing me this thing?”
I’m pretty sure the rocket scientist knows what a pregnancy test looks like. And why his wife might be handing him one. I’m pretty sure.
Mike turned back around and continued bathing R. Without speaking.
By the next morning, he was crazy-excited. And so was I. We just needed a moment.
After that, life sped up. By 8 weeks, everyone at the office knew. I was already sporting a tummy large enough to prompt one of my co-workers to loudly ask, “Are you getting fat, or are you just pregnant again?”
Thank you. Thank you very much. Sigh. Engineers.
But right off the bat, this has been a very different pregnancy. With R, I was never tired, never nauseous, didn’t really have many pregnancy symptoms at all…but this time around?
The first three months were literally defined by me sitting on the couch, saltines in hand, thinking, “If I don’t turn my head….then maybe…just maybe…I won’t feel so sick…” And going to bed by 7PM each night.
The second trimester was much better…for a few weeks at least…but I just got SO BIG. SO FAST.
I’ll probably try for one more belly shot…but to be honest, this last month (or two) has been really, really rough. My OB finally pointed out that the second (or third or fourth) pregnancy is harder than your first, because your stomach is already so stretched out that you belly is lower, bigger, and therefore puts more strain…everywhere.
You know those pregnant women who make grunting noises when they sit or stand? Who literally waddle? Who keep one hand on their back? Who wear therapeutic belts under their clothing (the ones that resemble weight-lifting belts)? You know – the pregnant woman who is a total cliché, the one I SWORE I would never be?
Yeah. I’m her.
But….despite the nausea, the exhaustion, the waddle, the grunting, the back, hips, rib and everywhere else pain….I am ecstatic. Because I got to do this again.
(But would I like to go back and slap my former pregnant-with-Raines self for worrying over nothing (“OMG? Do I look fat?”) and complaining about the silliest things (“Those hospital gowns are SO ugly!”)? Yes. Yes I do.
Live and learn.