After 13 weeks of blogging, and 26 weeks of being preggo, this week's post is devoted to the "other" half of this pregnancy. I'm talking about my hubby.
look how cute he is :)
yup ... he's adorable.
For the past 13 weeks I've been updating all of you on my thoughts, feelings, symptoms and interesting experiences as I EXPERIENCE them. ME ... it's all me, baby ... and as I'm reading through pregnancy books, blogs, and mommy-to-be type websites, I'm finding that the focus is 99.9% on ME, aka, the whale carrying this little alien being in my kangaroo pouch. The .1% that I've read focused on the man in my life has been either about rubbing MY feet (still waiting on that, btw), or about what gift to buy ME post-baby. Not all that informative for someone like my hubby who is trying to hang onto my size XL coat tails as I bear the brunt of these 9+ months. Though, it does make me start thinking about what "push present" I want ... ;) aka deserve!
OK ... yes ... it's true ... I am the one going through this. I am the one suffering from all the symptoms, and I'm the one kicking my once fit, 20-something body to the curb, but shouldn't I give him a little credit?
After all ... it must be hard on him. Ok Ok ... hang on ... let me rephrase that. It must be ... slightly difficult for him. Dave is always asking me what it feels like to have this little man moving around and growing inside me. Of course, it's almost impossible to describe ...but here is my best attempt:
At first, baby kicks felt like someone blowing bubbles in a glass of milk through a straw. Now, they feel more like someone is tapping a base drum with their foot; quick, but deliberate beats. I can confirm from other women, however, that by the end of pregnancy, things take a turn for the worst. These once delicate "beats" become the painful attacks of a rabid baby-mime trying to act out a scene from Rocky Baby Balboa as he fights a Russian baby, in front of the Russian Prime Minister babies, while trying to win over a defiant Russian baby crowd. "A few cheers now for Rocky Baby Balboa!!" .... "I see three babies out there ... HIT THE ONE IN THE MIDDLE!"
I like to think that he wants to be there for me, and make things better for me when they are bad. But then it hits me ... no matter how close he is to our kids, he's NEVER going to understand this bond. I can imagine how men may begin to feel left out of this monumental occasion. But, at the end of the day, even if I could describe it perfectly, he just cannot understand completely what I am going through. I mean, lets face it. The worst thing these he has to go through in life is an occasional cold, an 18hr Scottish hangover, or having to contemplate the possible aftermath of asking his pregnant wife if she really needs to eat ice cream directly out of the tub every night (hint: the answer is never ask ... don't even THINK about asking ... so far, he's passed this test!)
He has to deal with my aches, pains, and moodiness, without ever knowing what it actually feels like, or what sort of chemical imbalance I'm succumbing to this week. Dave has been so supportive thus far ...
So ... here's one for my man...
*Thank you for putting up with me constantly groaning through the aches, complaining about being tired every single day as if it were the first day I experienced this exhaustion, and for telling me I only have a "little basketball belly" instead of saying that I look like I stuffed 25 basketballs inside my shirt. *Thanks for calming me down when I freak out about the idea of actually taking care of a helpless baby. *Thanks for saying you don't "mind" getting up in the morning with the baby, even though 3 months from now I'm sure you will "mind". *Thanks for saying that dirty diapers and puke don't gross you out. *Thanks for laughing with me when I show you pictures of all the different ways you can extract milk from a human breast, including, by hand! *Thanks for not commenting when at night I put on a too small tank top and shorts that look like I've painted them on my body. *Thanks for walking at my pace when I can't breathe or move my legs any faster than a sloth climbs a tree. *Thanks for quitting soccer so that you can be home with me one more night during the week to listen to me complain. *Thanks for not allowing me to paint the nursery, even though I want to, because it's bad for me. *Thanks for carrying anything heavier than a cell phone up the 26 stairs to the bedroom so I don't have to. *Thanks for letting me hire a cleaning lady (though I think this one benefits us both). *Thanks for not judging me when I eat 165 cookies in one breath. *Thanks for not complaining that I wake up so many times at night to pee. *Thanks for not asking any questions that time you asked me what I wanted at the grocery store and I asked you to buy me frozen french fries. *Thanks for going all the way up to our bedroom to kill the mutant spider that was on my side of the bed without complaining. *Thanks for nicely telling me that that bathing suit I bought just "didn't look right", instead of telling me I looked like crap in it ... and thanks for telling me the one I bought in its place looked better. *Oh, and thanks for taking on "Charlie Duty" in the mornings so that I don't have to get up early and walk down all the stairs to feed him at 5am ... that's a BIG one.
One might think that Mother Nature sends subliminal messages to him telling him to shut his trap and to let me complain, cry or bitch to my hearts content. Somehow his Scottish stubbornness must subside because he knows that whatever the heck I'm going through must be bad enough to replace his normally sweet and kind wife with this crazy shrew.
So thanks, baby ... this one's for you. I don't care what any other woman says ... I'm the luckiest one because I get to celebrate this time in my life with you. I can't wait to see you in your father role, because I know you'll be so good at it, that it will inspire me to be a better mom than I could ever imagine I could be. Now ... don't let up, because the worst symptoms are yet to come :) And tonight we can talk about my push prezzie!!!!
As for this week's stats, our Little Man is the size of a cucumber! He has graduated to a new size chart where they include his legs and feet in his height (before it was just head to bum). He is now somewhere around 15 inches long and about 2lbs!!!
How far along? 26 Weeks, 4 Days
Countdown: 13 Weeks, 3 Days
Total weight gain: 15lbs+ ... I will know exactly how much next Monday at our next appointment. I'm thinking closer to 20.
Maternity clothes? Yes, but I am wearing a combination of both regular and maternity clothes
Stretch marks? nope, still stretch-free! thank god!
Sleep: still getting up 3+ times per night to pee, but I'm starting to get used to it, I think. Funny how pregnancy prepares you for the lack of sleep you get as a new mom.
Best moment this week: getting to spend the weekend with my girls at Lisa Lu's bachelorette party weekend in Wellfleet!
Miss Anything? going for a good jog. Everytime I see someone jogging, especially on these last gorgeous summer days we've had, I get a pang of jealousy.
Movement: Yup!!! He's practicing his soccer moves :)
Food Cravings: still craving a hot dog for some reason. I think it's the summer. And ... a cold Carona Light, which is funny, because I'm a wine drinker.
Anything making you queasy or sick: nope!
Gender: BOY!
Labor Signs: Nope!
Symptoms: I've been really tired again this week ... not sure if it's from Wellfleet, or from the pregnancy!
Belly Button in or out? in... still ... but barely! The bottom part looks like it might be mirating forward, though, which is scaring me.
Wedding rings on or off? on
Happy or Moody most of the time: Happy! A little anxious, though, as I am finishing the last few weeks of my 2nd trimester.
Looking forward to: spending some time in Rye, NH this week with my family. They've rented a beach house for 2 weeks, and I can't wait to get up there!
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