I kvetch about all the things I don’t like about being pregnant, but now, at week 25, I realized I have a whole list of things that don’t suck, and I haven’t even met my kid yet!
- You quickly realize that any statement starting with “I just wouldn’t be able to stand it…” is bogus. Nausea? I thought it would kill me. Days upon days of vomiting? The same. Limiting caffeine, cutting out alcohol, and watching what I eat? Wouldn’t be able to do it. But I can, have, will, am getting used to it. And despite the discomforts (and periodic coffee-laden dreams), I’m still pretty much the same old me.
- I have company… all the time. This kid o’ mine is a Kicky McKickerston and while I forget to be thankful that he’s so active, I never forget to enjoy it. He figured out how to lodge his body part under my rib cage while kicking my bladder… and I was proud. And just now he did this flippy thing that almost made me dizzy (and did bad things with relation to the dinner I just ate) but it was so cool. Great job, kiddo!
- Sometimes, a little distraction is good. My job can be incredibly frustrating and stupid. If I’m not careful, I get carried away on the waves of annoyance. This little dude has a good knack for kicking me or nudging me throughout the day – and that little bit of distraction is really useful in snapping me out of the doldrums.
- I’m confronted by all these idiosyncrasies I tend to ignore. Like my self-consciousness about my boobs. And vanity about my mid-section. And discomfort being given/ offered/ supported. And unwillingness to admit I’m a giiiirl. Much like being engaged forced me to deal with the transition of myself into a partner, being pregnant is shining a light on the parts of my personality that try as I may are unlikely to change. That’s okay as long as I know how to deal.
- I have higher standards for my behavior. Transitions are good for exacerbating little personality detriments until you have to face them and are forced to figure out how to live with them. So, I choose ease so I don’t lose my shit. I make lists of things I won’t be doing to remind myself I get to choose how to do this whole shebang. And I start to accept who I am – how I am, and how we are as a couple. This is good.
- I like my husband a little bit more when I see him through the perspective of his kid. He’s pretty darned cool. Though he often drives me nuts, he has charms that will make him a good other half to this parenting partnership. He’s more fun, more silly, more willing to believe things will be good and easy and awesome.
- It takes a while. I was freaking out pre-pregnancy and someone pointed out that you have nine months of being pregnant to come to terms with the whole situation, she was SO RIGHT. While I’ve often wished I could super speed this pregnancy, I’m just now beginning to realize the importance of the transition period. I get that biologically, this kid needs time to bake, but so does my brain. (Er, that didn’t come out right.) A forced waiting period is a great way to make sure the whole idea has time to settle. Even if it’s settling while you’re dealing with itchy boobies.*
*Heat rash, we think, and inevitable given how bodacious my ta-ta’s have become, but holy hell, itching is a special kind of misery. And itchy n*pples? Awesome.