Hey readers! I’m glad to know you’re out there!
This week is a very emotional one for me. My hormonal changes make me weepy and then angry and then weepy because I got angry. I cannot control myself lately and I apologize to anyone who may have encountered this. Please just take into account that I’m crazy and pregnant which equals completely bi polar.
I follow a web site for moms and pregnant people called baby center. Once a week I get an email update on how baby is progressing inside the womb and a little blurb about what’s normal for the week. This week, number 22, I saw that I have a 1 lb baby in me covered in tiny hairs and it’s growing tiny tooth nubs. For some reason the idea of my baby already being 1 whole pound dropped a weight in my gut that I can’t get rid of. I have an actual baby that isn’t just a speck or just the idea that there will be a baby soon. I have a BABY. Holy crap. Did this just hit me? No! I for sure have been thinking of nothing but baby since I peed on the stick. It’s just that it was always this tiny little speck on the monitor of a 10 inch skeleton…but wait, it’s a real baby. It’s going to have to get born. Whaaaat? I knew it all along, I mean who doesn’t, but for serious, this baby is going to have to get born, by ME!?
He weighs about a pound, by the time I push him out he’s going to weigh about 7 of them. Oh dear god what fine mess did I get into now? I’m a nurturing person, at least I think I am. I don’t think motherhood is going to be an enormous stretch for me. Will it be a cake walk? No. Am I scared out of my head? Yes. What’s the only thing that scares me more than being a new mom? Giving birth to the baby. It weighs a pound and it’s 11 inches? I’m only a month away from my third and final trimester. I bought a baby book like 3 weeks ago for “what to expect the first year” and I haven’t even read past breastfeeding and I still don’t know how to breastfeed! What if my bad cat decides to pee on the baby or something? What if I don’t finish the book in time? That book is like a Manhattan phone book, it’s huge and daunting.
All of a sudden my excitement has turned into panic and fear that I am inevitably going to be the most unprepared mother on the planet. One million things could go wrong here. I’m 22 weeks pregnant? Dear god you’d never even know it by looking at me, I look like the stay puff marshmallow man, except with pimples. You couldn’t tell there’s a baby in there under all the other water weight and fat stores. I’m not a racist but prepare your self for what I’m about to say: all of a sudden enormous black men are grilling me like they want to eat me for dinner. It’s true, they do like big white girls! Unfortunately this was my number one sign that I need to start looking more pregnant and less like a chubalub.
So the gist here is that I’m fatter and there’s totally a baby getting ready to burst from my loins. I want to keep this thing in there for the next 10 years. I’m scared. I’m a hot mess. I really never actually considered that I’d watch this baby grow to be measured in pounds and in inches greater than 10. Maybe it would feel more real if I could look down and see where the baby is instead of looking down and seeing a wide “spread” of the middle section. Not to mention all the uncomfortable leaking that’s happening right now. Sigh. I’m exhausted. I have GOT to read that damn book or live to regret it.