(Yes, I do totally loathe myself for typing out that cliched and groan-worthy post title. But I'm leaving it because it's truuuuuue.)
I'm somewhere in the middle on my ninth week of pregnancy. If I look back to my writings from the previous go-rounds, I see that I was 1) in maternity clothes already, 2) insanely sick all the time, and 3) insanely obsessed with being pregnant ALLTHETIME LIKERIGHTNOW ANDNOW.
The bloating of the first couple weeks has passed so I'm back comfortably in my regular old jeans. I still wear belts and can tuck shirts in, if I feel like it. I guess technically going up a bra size would help, but they seem like they'd be sore no matter what cup size I mash them into so I haven't yet bothered.
I can count on one hand the number of times I've actually thrown up, rather than just feeling vaguely unsettled or heave-y. The two very worst days, symptoms-wise, were directly related to the prenatal vitamin my doctor prescribed. I stopped taking them, switched to a gentler OTC version and immediately felt better. I'm still sensitive to smells but not to a run-to-the-bathroom extreme, and I've yet to encounter any major food aversions like before. (Chicken, for example, and I remain on good speaking terms, for the first pregnancy ever.)
My cravings are the same, though, like total clockwork: Chipotle burritos with hot salsa (though now I want carnitas instead of vegetarian), Paneer Mahkni and chocolate pudding. If I don't get them though...eh. I'll live. And more importantly, so will you.
There isn't a room in our house that doesn't currently (and desperately) need new paint/furniture/flooring/cabinetry/redecorating/something and I'm sure this will start driving me crazy at some point, but right now...eh. I'll live. We all will.
Jason spends his time comparing the various larger-car options (and seething at the jackass who sideswiped our in-perfect-condition trade-in car last week without leaving a note) and yesterday I caught him loading up an online shopping cart with some really cute maternity tops. (Two summer pregnancies have admittedly, left me pretty unprepared for this winter. Does anybody have a warm-yet-vaguely-stylish black maternity coat they'd be willing to sell, lease or lend? Something in a size small/four/ish? No? Eh. It's okay. I'll just...not button shit for awhile.) He asked if I felt like hitting the baby store yet -- I've always been in a huge rush to make that first exciting purchase, no matter how extraneous or unnecessary it really is -- and I was shocked at the force of my OH MY GOD NO IT'S TOO EARLY reaction.
Sometimes the old crazy creeps back in -- something is wrong! I'm feeling too good! Good equals bad! Up is down and and wrong is right and meat is just too plain fucking delicious! -- but most of the time...I kind of forget. Which sounds awful.
I bumped into a friend a few days ago who gave me a big hug and a "Congratulations!" And I stood there for a second, blinking dumbly, before remembering. "Oh! Right! Yeah."
But it's not apathy. Or a lack of excitement. Not at all. More of a...familiarity with the process. It gets more "real" later, and no amount of obsessing or worrying or premature-wearing-of-elastic-waistbands will get me to that point any sooner. There will be -- knock on wood, fingers crossed --the quickening and the belly and the kicks and the big gender ultrasound, the name discussions and the washing and sorting of little clothes and then, oh my holy lord, there will be another baby, another newborn, another completely different little person who will be like no one else we've ever met.
With all THAT happening in just a few months, well. Forget the nausea and the headaches and the sore boobs, what in the world am I supposed to do about this overwhelming pregnancy symptom known as IMPATIENCE?