Trimesters by Girth

(Article two of the "On Being Pregnant Series")
Although my girth was unchanged, my first trimester was always the worst.  I felt tired and a little sick all the time.  It didn't matter if I slept  23 and 1/2 hours a day, as that 1/2 hour of awake time would be spent yawning, rubbing my eyes whilst wishing I would just throw up so I could feel a little better.  All this and there's no adorable baby bump to show for it.  I was sure people were wondering if I was milking-it.  After all, I sure looked the same.

By the second trimester it was abundantly obvious that I was pregnant, but only to me apparently.  I'd think my belly was big but other people could hardly see the difference.  "You're not even showing yet!" I'd hear often.  As any mom will tell you, the second trimester is golden.  I felt much better with most of my energy back, and I only had a bun in the oven rather than the whole bread truck.  Also, as pregnant ladies are wont to do, I'd radiate that glow that is a composition of hormones, super vitamins and happiness.  By the end of the second trimester I can remember looking down at my belly and thinking incredulously, "I'm going to get even bigger?"

By the third trimester, I always felt great.  When my baby belly first appeared, it always seemed to be in the way, then I'd grow accustomed to the odd weight distribution and girth, and it soon became the new normal.  Then it would grow again and I'd start all over again.  Interestingly though, when I was huge I could sometimes forget it was even there.   Especially with the second baby, since I was usually preoccupied with my three-year-old.  I'd start talking with other moms at the park and after a few minutes one might ask me how far along I was.

"Hummm - what?  Oh yes this, (pointing to my belly) I'm 35 weeks".

Once I joked, "What am I showing?"

"Uh yeah, lil' bit," was the reply.

Sometimes I'd wonder if under my thick sweater it was even noticeable; after seeing pictures of myself in said sweater --yes, yes, it was noticeable.

Even though I was big, in general I felt pretty spry.  Ironically this is when I'd get the most help from family, friends and strangers.  Holding doors, offering up their chair or place in line.  I'd usually politely decline—or graciously accept, depending on the circumstances, while sometimes thinking—boy this sure would have been great during my first trimester!

On Being Pregnant

Being pregnant was a fascinating (and sometimes downright scary) experience.  It seemed to go on for an eternity, then just days after the delivery I could hardly remember what it was like being that big, carrying a little life I loved so passionately, but had yet even to touch or see.  So I'm here to tell the tale before pregnancy amnesia claims the rest of the details and replaces them with such critical information as the names and whereabouts of my kids' stuffed animals, the location and state of their clothes, toys and the words to their favorite picture books.

For the next week or so I'll be posting new articles regarding some of the different aspects of pregnancy, including: Discovery, Trimesters by Girth, There's a Baby in There!, Worry!, Other People, and Hi Baby!

Discovery!

In each of my three pregnancies my reaction to the + on the pregnancy test was surprising.  The + sign themselves were overly long in coming and I was pretty sure how I would react when it was positive.  I had images of winning-the-lottery style jumping hugs and smiles—like the commercials.  Not so...

After my first + sign appeared, the am-I-really-ready-for-this anxiety washed over me like a cold Oregon Coast wave, but I escaped the undertow and danced in the sands of excitement and joy.  That pregnancy ended in heartbreak ten weeks later when I miscarried.

Three months later we started trying again and after many additional months went by the + sign reappeared.  There was none of the former anxiety, only joy tempered with a little worry about a repeat.  That pregnancy happily concluded with the birth of our first daughter, Danielle.

The third + sign didn't make an appearance until almost a year of trying.  When I saw it, I had to sit down as my heart pounded and my vision blurred.  My brain rapid fired words such as miscarriage, down syndrome, labor, stretch marks, sleep deprivation (ohGodIdon'tknowifIcandoitagain), engorgement, mastitis, cracked nipples, cleft palate, autism, spina bifida, sore hips, morning sickness, colic, premature birth, teething, nipple biting, shots, etc.  It was as if these words were bullets fired by a guerrilla soldier that was hiding behind the dunes of the sunny beach I was walking on while dreaming of breathing in baby smells again.  Whew!!

Stunned but not felled my by the initial attack, I persevered by taking each moment as it came. Although I'm in the thick of the dreaded sleep deprivation phase, I'm still very happy to be the mom of another adorable baby girl.

What was your reaction to the news that you were going to be a mom or dad?

Big Kid Paradox

My four year old, Danielle still uses a binkie.^[1]  She loves, loves, loves her binkie and has it every night at bedtime.  Three times now, my husband and I have bought what we've sworn to be the last binkies we'll ever buy her; so she'd better take care of them.  When the latest set developed chew holes after only a few weeks it was time for a new tack.  I told her that if she wanted new binkies she'd need to save her own money to buy them.  She always takes this with a good attitude.  She likes having some control over her acquisitions and will show inordinate patience (for a four-year-old) with the time it takes to save for the object she wants.  However, this was not the case in this instance.  There was some whining, "Uunnnuugghh - how much do they cost??  How much do I have??  (Followed by frantic piggybank shaking.)  Can I do some jobs??"  But overall, it wasn't much.

With new determination she saved and counted, then counted again.  Until, at last, she had the required $5.99 for the newest set of binkies.  As soon as the money was tallied, she deposited it into her purse and we were off to Fred Meyers.  I picked up a few things I needed and we made our way over to the baby aisles.  She looked over the pacifier selection much as a fine restaurateur might peruse the dusty tenants of a wine cellar.  She made her choice and refusing to add them to our cart, carried them in hand to the register.  I paid for my purchases, then she for hers.  She carefully counted the money while the checker patiently waited.  Mercifully, the checker bagged Danielle's purchases and handed it over in exchange for her money.  "My aren't you a big girl," she said graciously.  Danielle puffed up with pride.  I wanted also to congratulate her, but as I couldn't seem to muster the right words, I remained quiet.

Upon our return home she made a beeline for her scissors.  Lacking the required hand strength to cut through the Kevlar packaging, she enlisted my husband's help.  He opened them for her and she dutifully went to the sink to wash them both.  After letting them breathe for the slightest of moments they were each sampled in turn.  "Was it a good year?" my husband inquired.  "Indeed father, it was."

1. Let he who is the perfect parent with the perfect children cast the first lego.  That's what I thought, now sitdownwouldja.