- I ordered eight diapers for $120 (a steal!) via Diaperswappers.com and got screwed. Package arrived with two diapers (wtf?) and the nice woman on the other end claims it’s not her deal to worry about because she didn’t buy insurance on the package (sellers pay shipping, usually). I’m avoiding thinking about it because I might get angry and frustrated. Still, looks like I’m out $90 and the “I got screwed!” feeling is worse than being out the cash. And I’m cheap, so that’s pretty bad.
- We’re almost at the halfway point. My husband is excited; I’m (you guessed it) freaked out. “This is our last quiet March,” I said during dinner. “Yea, cool!” he replied. Um, right. Cool.
- We visited friends who had a baby six weeks ago and for the first time in my life, I wasn’t all “ooh, baby, hand it over and go away!” This along with the fact that I lost all urges to make baby-related paraphernalia the minute I found out I was pregnant = uh, oh.
- Puking and nausea, because who wants to hear about that anymore?
- I gained somewhere between 10 and 15 pounds already (ack!) and that’s freaking me out.
- Regardless of what pregnant blogging women type, there is an unspoken competition about how much weight you do/ don’t gain. At first, she with the baby bump wins, because everyone wants one (except me, but I’m weird). Then later, everyone acts like they’re worried about not gaining weight but really don’t mind it much. Me? I look roley poley already. Awesome.
- That every bra I’ve bought already doesn’t fit (yes, even the ones I bought pretty recently) and that they tend to be built like sports bras so my boobs touch each other, something I adamantly dislike but can’t manage to avoid. Swear to gawd, yesterday I lost a popcorn kernel in there. Eeek.
- We find out if “it” is a “he” or a “she” on Thursday. I could go either way, but I know my husband has a preference, which I’m trying to not worry about but the worry is there.
- No idea what our plan for child care is. I know, I know, shut up. There’s a so-so daycare down the street that I prefer because I can walk there, but my husband would prefer something else. Since he doesn’t know what that “else” is, we’re not dealing with it for now.
In summary, Pregnant Me is not terribly unlike Normal Me in that she is anxious and worried and generally freaked out. She can’t, however, digest spicy foods, onion, anything vegetable-like – and most painfully, cannot overeat like Normal Me tended to do. Bummer.
Bright side: I’ve hit the point in my pregnancy where a) I can say “my pregnancy” without stuttering and b) there’s not much to do. We haven’t hit the “oh, shit, stuff must GET DONE” point (and thus the future nursery is still overrun with the detritus we haven’t found another home for) and all of the big decisions have been made (screenings done, names debated, crib ordered), we’re just sort of living life, albeit with this Future Deadline of Doom looming. But hey, at some point after that, the kid will be like a real human with a personality, right?