I get tired in the middle of the day. It's tough because once I'm out, I'm OUT. For around 3 hours. Consequently, I have a difficult time falling asleep the same night. And of course it only seems to happen on nights when I have to work in the morning the next day...
My appetite has picked up steam. I seem to be able to eat whenever the idea strikes, or the opportunity presents itself. I kind of wish people would quit putting sugary shit in front of me and telling me it's "okay because you're pregnant." Actually, quite the opposite is true! Sugar does very little for anyone's health, especially pregnant women. I've had a few cravings for ice cream but mostly I've kept my sweet tooth satisfied with fruit. Fruit and I have rekindled our long-lost friendship. Only drawback is that it can be hard to find really good fruit that isn't insanely expensive.
I am impatient to move into the 2-bedroom house we signed a lease on. John has all of his worldly possessions packed into my apartment and it's a little cramped, not to mention even more cluttered than usual. It's been hard for me to get motivated to sort through my stuff but he's right: it is something I should start doing now so we're not under all kinds of pressure when it comes time to make the move.
Mom asked if I had felt any kicks or flutters yet today. It's hard to know what's a flutter and what's just gas! I have thought a couple of times that it was definitely the baby and then moments later have been pretty sure it was the other... I am excited and at the same time a little bit spooked by the idea of feeling the baby move inside me. I suppose once I can feel it moving it's just that much more real.
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
Sunday, August 9, 2009
Saturday, August 1, 2009
fatso
I am starting to feel pudgy.
It's completely ridiculous, and I even kind of scoffed when I read the "saying goodbye to your figure" sections of a couple of the pregnancy books I've checked out, but after noticing recently how much more abundant my stomach and thighs have become, I'm beginning to understand.
I've never been terribly concerned with my appearance, at least compared to most women I know. I don't wear makeup or jewelry, my wardrobe tends to be pretty simple, and you won't catch me doing a whole lot of calorie-counting or squat-thrusts. Lucky for me I've always had a pretty fast metabolism and even if I'm not tracking every morsel that passes my lips I do my best to eat healthy. I just don't get a lot of exercise outside of work.
I actually wore a pedometer to the restaurant today and I walked about 6,600 steps during my 6-hour shift. That translates to about 3 miles. I get a lot of physical activity on a routine basis but maybe I need to do some light cardio. I certainly don't feel up to it when I get off work but I also know myself and scheduling an exercise routine for before work is a recipe for failure.
Other than the belly fat woes, I am still feeling a bit impatient. I'm almost to the end of my first trimester, and I am restless about seeing and feeling the baby. I guess part of me is having a hard time believing everything is okay after my hospital trip... I just want to see it moving and hear the heartbeat; until then it's a bit difficult to feel excited and hopeful and attached.
One way or the other, at least I know that John will be there for me and that he loves me. I am very lucky to have him.
It's completely ridiculous, and I even kind of scoffed when I read the "saying goodbye to your figure" sections of a couple of the pregnancy books I've checked out, but after noticing recently how much more abundant my stomach and thighs have become, I'm beginning to understand.
I've never been terribly concerned with my appearance, at least compared to most women I know. I don't wear makeup or jewelry, my wardrobe tends to be pretty simple, and you won't catch me doing a whole lot of calorie-counting or squat-thrusts. Lucky for me I've always had a pretty fast metabolism and even if I'm not tracking every morsel that passes my lips I do my best to eat healthy. I just don't get a lot of exercise outside of work.
I actually wore a pedometer to the restaurant today and I walked about 6,600 steps during my 6-hour shift. That translates to about 3 miles. I get a lot of physical activity on a routine basis but maybe I need to do some light cardio. I certainly don't feel up to it when I get off work but I also know myself and scheduling an exercise routine for before work is a recipe for failure.
Other than the belly fat woes, I am still feeling a bit impatient. I'm almost to the end of my first trimester, and I am restless about seeing and feeling the baby. I guess part of me is having a hard time believing everything is okay after my hospital trip... I just want to see it moving and hear the heartbeat; until then it's a bit difficult to feel excited and hopeful and attached.
One way or the other, at least I know that John will be there for me and that he loves me. I am very lucky to have him.
Thursday, July 30, 2009
of frequent urination, mood swings, fainting, and monster titties...
I found out I was pregnant on June 17th, 2009.
Really it wasn't a shock because for a couple of months we had been doing the "horizontal cha cha" sans birth control of any kind. We had established that we were both okay with that, which is kind of a shock in and of itself. At least for me: in the years between 18 and 27 or so, I could often be heard vehemently proclaiming my lack of desire for children. This is why they tell you not to use that one "never" word, especially not when it comes to yourself.
I have escaped that most-feared of pregnancy symptoms, morning sickness. I'm not yarfing instantly at the merest whiff of a pungent aroma, thank Jebus. A lack of appetite has occasionally plagued me for a few weeks, along with fatigue, quadruple the visits to the bathroom, and the occasional moment of unabashed brattiness. There was a trip to the ER when I fainted one day and had breakthrough bleeding the next, but as far as we can tell things are fine. Really I'm just attempting to stay as positive as possible, even when I feel like lighting someone's face on fire.
As for the naysayers: there very well may be those who think what I'm doing is irresponsible ecologically, or rash and ill-timed considering my financial/insurance status. Maybe they also assume I will do awful shit like leave my baby on top of the car and drive off, or sell it for 2/3 of a pack of cigarettes and a scratch-it ticket, or train it from birth to do Joan Rivers impersonations (I'm pretty sure I'm safe on those first two). I'm not going to be the perfect parent, but I'm also not going to give my kid a fucking complex trying to ensure they live in a constantly controlled, sterilized mock-up of the real world, only to have their distorted vision of the universe come crashing down around them the very moment their ass cracks are dirty and out of mommy's reach.
Besides, I think it's a girl, and I'd put good money on the likelihood of her being a total badass regardless of what life throws at her. And if my instincts are wrong, I will make one fateful promise about my little future-boy-child: he might be a momma's boy, but only with his momma.
I am excited, terrified, confused, overwhelmed with expectation and love. I already feel impatient, but I know my very own little poop-machine will be here to turn everything upside down very soon. I guess I just didn't realize until I met John just how ready I was. All in good time...
For now my man and I are just enjoying this magnificent set of ta-tas and indulging in nearly heinous amounts of sleeping and snacking. Despite the demands of my bladder and the mood-swing-merry-go-round, I am already enjoying the experience of being a mother.
Thanks, little fetus. I'm pretty glad you're (almost) here.
Really it wasn't a shock because for a couple of months we had been doing the "horizontal cha cha" sans birth control of any kind. We had established that we were both okay with that, which is kind of a shock in and of itself. At least for me: in the years between 18 and 27 or so, I could often be heard vehemently proclaiming my lack of desire for children. This is why they tell you not to use that one "never" word, especially not when it comes to yourself.
I have escaped that most-feared of pregnancy symptoms, morning sickness. I'm not yarfing instantly at the merest whiff of a pungent aroma, thank Jebus. A lack of appetite has occasionally plagued me for a few weeks, along with fatigue, quadruple the visits to the bathroom, and the occasional moment of unabashed brattiness. There was a trip to the ER when I fainted one day and had breakthrough bleeding the next, but as far as we can tell things are fine. Really I'm just attempting to stay as positive as possible, even when I feel like lighting someone's face on fire.
As for the naysayers: there very well may be those who think what I'm doing is irresponsible ecologically, or rash and ill-timed considering my financial/insurance status. Maybe they also assume I will do awful shit like leave my baby on top of the car and drive off, or sell it for 2/3 of a pack of cigarettes and a scratch-it ticket, or train it from birth to do Joan Rivers impersonations (I'm pretty sure I'm safe on those first two). I'm not going to be the perfect parent, but I'm also not going to give my kid a fucking complex trying to ensure they live in a constantly controlled, sterilized mock-up of the real world, only to have their distorted vision of the universe come crashing down around them the very moment their ass cracks are dirty and out of mommy's reach.
Besides, I think it's a girl, and I'd put good money on the likelihood of her being a total badass regardless of what life throws at her. And if my instincts are wrong, I will make one fateful promise about my little future-boy-child: he might be a momma's boy, but only with his momma.
I am excited, terrified, confused, overwhelmed with expectation and love. I already feel impatient, but I know my very own little poop-machine will be here to turn everything upside down very soon. I guess I just didn't realize until I met John just how ready I was. All in good time...
For now my man and I are just enjoying this magnificent set of ta-tas and indulging in nearly heinous amounts of sleeping and snacking. Despite the demands of my bladder and the mood-swing-merry-go-round, I am already enjoying the experience of being a mother.
Thanks, little fetus. I'm pretty glad you're (almost) here.
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