My second trimester is humming along...I've been feeling relatively good. Thanks to the Unisom, I sleep through the night and don't feel particularly nauseated. (I swear, this blog is not sponsored by Unisom.)
I've been feeling the baby moving around. Usually just random flutters, but every so often a little poke, which I guess is a kick from a tiny foot. While I am excited to have a powdery, soft little bunny to take care of, I definitely feel like a completely separate being from the baby. Detached, I guess. I'm not sure why I feel guilty admitting this, it's simply a fact. I don't talk to the baby, for instance. At this point, it seems like a strange thing to do. He or she is still a pretty theoretical being to me.
I remember when one of my sisters had her first kid, I noticed that even when her belly was huge, she seemed totally separated from it somehow. When the baby was born, she took perfect care of him, but he seemed to me like sort of a foreign object to her. Then, when he was a couple of months old, she was holding him and she looked at me with tears in her eyes and said, "I have never loved anyone or anything so much in my life."
I guess I don't need to be too concerned about how much I've bonded with the baby(fetus) at this juncture. It'll happen in its own sweet time.
While I am admitting guilty things, I will admit that I feel bad that the images from the 3-D ultrasound look really strange to me. I don't know quite what I'm looking at, but if I am seeing things correctly, the baby looks sort of like a wet, hairless, strangely shaped cat. That's awful. I'm going to be a MOTHER. Can I say things like that? God help me, I don't know. Maybe I'm a horrible person. Maybe I'll be a horrible mother! Christmas, what is it about motherhood that turns people inside out? If my child does in fact look like a wet cat, I am quite certain that I will love him or her entirely, enormously, without question.
The annoying symptom I've been having the last couple of weeks is a stretchy, hurty pressure in my belly. Like there's a huge ball of dough in my tummy that's trying to rise. Erg. It's not extremely painful, just really uncomfortable, and there's an emotional element to it too, like the aftermath of being kicked in the gut or getting some really bad news. Like you want to hold your belly and say "Ugh." I started becoming convinced that this meant that something was wrong, so I called the doctor's office and was assured that this is completely normal.
I haven't been dyeing my hair lately, so as a treat, I bought some Clairol Shine Happy - it's supposed to make your hair all glossy and silky. But just before I applied it, I wondered if it was ok for me to use. I called Clairol and a dude named Cody told me that all Clairol products are tested extensively on animals and there's no evidence of any Clairol product causing any problems with pregnant women or babies. I guess that's good, but I got really bummed out thinking about all the animals that were sacrificed for me to potentially have shiny hair, and I decided my hair is fine as is. Frick it. Forget my dang hair, forget any semblance of being in shape, forget all the cute clothes and shoes that I can't wear right now. I shall focus on funky jewelry.
James and I are trying to figure out someplace to go for a "babymoon." I'm not sure I really want to use this term, as I find it sort of annoying. I'm dying to go away while we can, although I am afraid of feeling totally gnarly, whiny, lumplike whilst trying to enjoy the South of France, or Crete, or sunny Arizona. Plus I'll have to pack an extra suitcase of food, as I need to eat about once an hour these days.
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