Thursday, March 12, 2009

11ish weeks to go

I am a week and a half into the third trimester and am starting to see how the novelty of pregnancy can wear off. I hated pregnancy during the first trimester sooo badly I figured it was a mistake of cosmic proportions that I ever got pregnant in the first place.

Then the second trimester came along full of energy and evidence of life and I was like, HEY THIS AIN'T SO BAD, IT'S PRETTY COOL ACTUALLY... but now, after an alarming growth spurt, I am seeing the event horizon for gestational enthusiasm.

These days I'm feeling like I've been punched in the solar plexus every time I look at my feet or try to do something acrobatic like get out if the car. I predict that there will be a nice symbiosis between the impatience to be not pregnant and the acceptance of impending motherhood. If I am not forced into things I have a tendency to get comfortable in a state of suspended animation. I am that sort.

All that said, this doesn't yet suck. I am more inclined to want to sleep maybe. Yesterday afternoon I slept when I had a couple of free hours in my schedule instead of going running which was a shocking deviation from my plan, but IT FELT SOOOO GOOD. I let it happen because this week is the last week of the winter term and the last week of my insanely stupid schedule. From here on out I can run more, and more regularly. The last couple of weeks getting on the road has been sporadic and I find that reaaaallly irr-it-tat-ing. The end of the winter term also dovetails nicely with my plans to cultivate my nesting instinct, to sleep more and to lay around and stare at my belleh more.

I am afraid I don't have much of a nesting instinct at all, and never have. I spent all my formative years skipping town... after living in 38 different places in 8 different states, going to 6 different schools in 4 different states before even finishing the 5th grade... well, I could never see the the profit margin in unpacking all the boxes.* My house will always feel half-coming, half-going as a result. But I've got a viable fetus with unpainted rooms and no crib, no changing table and no matching rocking chair to go with the crib I don't have... the electrical outlets are just sitting around exposed with an allure fatale, what with those knives just laying around begging to be poked into things...

Did I mention we are viable? That means something to me, but I can't really explain what. I feel like I am walking around with a sleeping baby instead of a belly full of mysterious ectoplasm. She isn't usually sleeping (KICK KICK) but, because I can't hear her scream (yet) and I don't have to change any crappy diapers (yet) I tend to imagine her as a sleeping infant. If this little girl were born today she would have a 95% chance of survival. I can already see that this is the beginning of a lifelong trend, from here and onward she'll need me less and less and I'll have to accept that she is and will continue to become her own person and OMG I AM NOT READY TO CUT THE UMBILICAL CORD! GO TO YOUR ROOM, YOU ARE STILL MY BABY!!

i'm taking it out on Owen...

at least he will never grow up and leave me

*By contrast my husband lived in two homes four miles apart for the first 18 years of his life, attended one elementary school, one jr high and one high school and is back living in the very same house to which his parents brought him home from the hospital when he was born. He attended the same elementary school his father attended, which is the same school our daughter will attend if I don't decide to blow town by then.


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