When I was pregnant with our first, a friend told me to enjoy all the attention I received because it would be the last time I would be the center of the universe.
Though I couldn’t really understand what she meant at the time, I took the advice to heart and soaked in the endless flow of compliments and inquiries about my well-being.
Back then I could barely walk two feet without someone stopping me to comment on my glow or ask how I was feeling. At night, my husband would talk to my belly before giving me a back rub. Every few weeks we took a picture to document my growing belly and I (not Austin) dutifully read pregnancy books to track our baby’s development.
I was, in hindsight, one of those blissful pregnant women I now loath. My feet never swelled, my belly was always manageable and I didn’t experience heartburn once. As other mothers-to-be around me complained about a long list of ailments and willed their babies to make an appearance, I was quite content.
But now it's the second Pregnancy. My stomach exploded within seconds of the sperm meeting egg, and at six months isn’t far off from the size I hit just before delivery last time. And I peed myself the other day when I puked, while also having a nose-bleed.
For the first four months I spent nearly every minute of the day feeling ill. The nausea was only broken by episodes of actual vomiting, or curling in a ball in bed. The constant sickness passed just as my hips started aching and I began tossing and turning at night. It's a miracle if I reach more than 4 hours of sleep. I’ve started counting down the days to my May due date and trying not to cry as I force myself into formerly baggy jeans that now cut off circulation to my lower limbs.
Juggling the “joys” of pregnancy along with an energetic two-year-old has left me exhausted. Yet, the endless flow of compliments and concern from last time has slowed to non-existent. Of course, some people still ask how I’m feeling and will occasionally tell me I’m looking well, but it’s far from the attention I basked in last time. I basically need to remind my Austin every other day that I’m pregnant.
He had what I can only conclude was a moment of temporary insanity last month when he shared that he was feeling “really, really tired” after a rough night with our Brynlee. When I noted I was tired too, he quipped “Why are you tired?, Do you have a rough time sitting at home lounging around all day”
“Because I’m making a human being!” I yelled in a hormonal rage.
There has only been one back rub, Zero belly photos and I’ve headed out MYSELF at 10 p.m. in my pajamas to indulge a Dr. pepper craving. What little sympathy I’ve received on the home front has come from our daughter, who sticks her face next to mine and pats my back. “mommy puke!,” she cheers enthusiastically.
Of course, she also struggles to remember there’s a baby in my stomach and often jumps on me with reckless abandon.
I feel the need to apologize to those pregnant women, mostly second and third timers, who I pranced in front of perkily last time. I should have handed over my gift cards and raved about their ability to keep their families clothed and fed. Turns out karma has a sense of humour and justice. I suppose that explains why I feel like a whale as of late. Austin likes to play a song on his phone in which the lyrics go like this :
“ I'm a BIG old Hippopotamaus!
And I've got a Big old Bottomaus!
I weigh so much, so very, very much,
That I float is quite a miracle.
I'm, oh, so round, so very, very round,
You could almost call me spherical.”
And then Has the nerve to say “hey Hippo, how ya doin?”
Of course, that’s made better by the helpful people who remind me it’s all for a good reason. It’s even more appreciated when I’m still wiping vomit off my mouth or staring at the scale after passing a threshold the Internet and doctor tell me I shouldn’t hit for another 12 weeks, Even though I've been going to the gym 4 days a week and watching what I eat. Yikes. I am thrilled to be adding to our family, but that doesn’t mean I’m enjoying my transformation into an incontinent Humpty Dumpty. I’m officially scared of what the next three months hold and wonder if my belly button, let alone my pride, will ever recover. And Austin thinks he's getting a third. HA!
Love, the hippo.
Aw, girlie, I know. I promise, when you come, I shall give you a back rub every single day. :) It is so exhausting trying to care for others while growing one. E.x.h.a.u.s.t.i.n.g! Come here and I'll spoil you silly!!
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