After a fitful night of tossing, turning, waking up to pee, and nightmares about chasing a tiny boy through a maze of colored building blocks, I woke up this morning and realized this:
At almost twenty weeks (halfway!) this should come as no surprise. After all, pregnancy doesn’t happen overnight. Well, OK, it does actually happen overnight, or at least within a 24 hour period, but you aren’t supposed to feel pregnant overnight. It’s supposed to be a gradual, graceful process. The baby inside you grows stronger and bigger, the expecting mama feels more pregnant with each passing week.
Except me. Was I just in denial? Or too busy chasing E to pay the proper amount of attention? Is this what happens when jaded second-time mamas give up reading “What to Expect” every night before bed? Because this time yesterday I was still in full I’m-not-feeling-it mode. No major symptoms, no cravings, no frequent trips to the bathroom or baby-related nightmares, and loose tops covered any visible evidence.
Then came today. My boobs have inflated—in a matter of hours, I swear—to porn star proportions. I decided I needed pretzel M&Ms (right now right now right now) and made a totally unnecessary trip to the drugstore to buy them. There’s a bump in front that, yesterday, just looked like I indulged in too much ice cream over the weekend. Today the bump is hard and smooth, like a pregnant belly is supposed to look.
I’m feeling a little off-kilter, and since I tried to pour orange juice in my coffee mug this morning, and then handed my octogenarian grandmother a sippy cup of water, it seems that pregnancy brain has settled in. Previously, not a single person had asked me if I was expecting; this morning, three people did. One, a particularly nosy, stalker-ish neighbor I was dreading having to tell, even made that annoying beach ball pantomime with her hands in front of her own stomach. Ick.
I guess I should consider myself lucky to have made it this far without feeling pregnant—most people experience all this stuff long before 20 weeks. But the sudden attack is making me feel like an alien appeared under my skin and has taken over. Wait! Hold on! Stop kicking! Don’t I get some time to get used to this?
During E’s nap—the first time today I got to sit down and think it all over—I decided this lightening fast change is a good thing, after all. I needed to feel pregnant. It was long past time. Instead of dwelling on the small changes and fighting the impulse to pretend nothing special was happening, now there’s no denying it. #2 is here, kicking away at my bladder, filling my brain with nonsense and baby boy dreams. I’m fully, irrevocably, 100% pregnant—and that’s exactly how I want to be. I just needed an extra hard kick in my (suddenly rounder) behind to get things rolling.