I've been blogging about this baby for a few months now. "Blogging" as in writing blog posts... but not publishing them.
I wasn't sure what I really wanted to share, and when. I'm actually still sitting on a lot of these unpublished posts. But I would like to share a few "early pregnancy thoughts," because I love reading those once other bloggers share their news and because I think there's value in understanding how strange those early weeks are.
Simply put, pregnancy is funny (and amazing, uncomfortable, exciting, pukey -- whatever suits your fancy).
On the one hand, for most people it starts out as an incredibly private experience. You and your husband are in on the secret, plus maybe immediate family soon after. Then word starts to trickle out to friends, but always with a caveat: it's early, we're still keeping it quiet, that sort of thing.
Then you start feeling like you're going to burst, in more ways than one. And people need to know. Or at least you need to tell.
I was comfortable telling everyone once we hit 12 weeks. In fact, I needed to tell people then. At that point, we'd heard the heartbeat, I had wrapped my head around the idea of becoming someone's mom (what?! I've mostly wrapped my head around that one), and there was a teeny tiny bump that I thought screamed "expecting" when I wore certain dresses. I probably could have kept it a secret for several more weeks, but I was tired of evading, lying, and wearing the same long sweater at work just to cover it up, figuratively and literally.
As I'm now switching into the "this is public knowledge" phase of pregnancy, I'm enjoying it more. It's fun and exciting to hear congratulations, to get advice from new moms, to not feel nauseous 24/7.
But it's also a little weird, because while I do have a baby bump (I swear I do), I'm not sure anyone else really sees it yet. If anything, it might just look like I ate all the pies last night. And rather than stopping to linger lovingly on my backside (as those pies have always been wont to do), they all went straight to my stomach. I'm a lifelong pear shape, shall we say, who is suddenly being turned into an apple.
I lost six pounds in the first trimester (thank you, "morning" sickness), and despite my best efforts, I haven't gained any of it back yet. At my last appointment, the nurse said although I'd lost some weight from being nauseous up until this point, I should start putting it on now. That was two weeks ago, and I'm down one more pound. As I told my mom last night, I feel like I'm going to get into trouble next time I go in for a checkup!
Part of it is definitely cutting out wine, my long-lost friend. Another part is unwilling portion control. While in the past I could easily and cheerfully match Kyle's plate ounce for ounce (whether I should have been doing that is a different story), now I am full after, like, a fist-sized serving of chicken. I know that's a healthy size, but my mind and my appetite have very different ideas about what constitutes a proper meal, and my mind is not happy with this turn of events. I want to eat an entire Chipotle burrito, damnit. Not a measly half, like a bird. What have I become?!
I think this is my body returning to its "set point," the weight that I actually should be. Forced to abandon the wine and get a hold of my binge-eating capabilities (what a lady!), my poor overworked system is celebrating by shedding a few. And it's okay -- babies take what they need and moms get what is left over, from what I understand, plus it's not like I'm bordering on "too thin" by any stretch of the imagination. But like the rule-follower I am, I still dread a lecture at my next doctor's appointment.
I know I'll probably kick myself in a few months over this attitude, but right now I want a cute, noticeable bump. Instead, I just look like I was, in fact, able to eat a huge burrito...
But there you have it, yinz. Smack dab between 13 and 14 weeks, I finally took a bump shot.