I made it! I am officially into the second trimester! And, praise be the good Lord above, I think I am actually starting to feel less like a zombie with serious food issues and more like my former self (well a fatter, slightly more discomforted version anyway). That being said, I am hesitant to even type the words, scared that the pregnancy gods will strike me down for even thinking that I might be over the worst part. The evidence for my optimism so far is this: on Saturday, I had an extraordinary amount of energy wherein I 1) walked five-odd miles 2)helped clean the church building and 3) spent the afternoon and early evening in DC trying to pick out the perfect drapery fabric for this project. (The fact that I am even contemplating this project, I think is a sign that I am feeling much more the thing). The greatest victory was going throughout the entire day without feeling remotely nauseous. Yes, it is true. It appears that there does exist a Divine Being, and not only does he care about my mental health, he also cares about the mental health of my poor, abused Mr. F. Thus, I take comfort that The End is near, if not right upon us.
Now, this might be old news to you experienced moms out there but…..Dude. No one told me how weird it would feel to be pregnant. I am starting to feel stuff going on inside, and I not talking about gas. I am talking about the fact that my organs feel like they are stretching, or maybe it isn’t my organs but just my abdomen stretching from the inside outwards. In any case, it is unlike any other feeling I have experienced. I can only imagine what it will feel like when the wee little one starts performing acrobatics. In my more stupid moments, I think, “How did it get in there?”—like I am some sort of victim of an alien abduction and subsequent alien implantation. But then the non-pregnant and therefore thinking part of my brain kicks in, and I of course remember. Other freaky happenings that could easily be explained by some alien parasite but also by my pregnancy—the insanely quick growth of my finger- and toenails. Enough already! While some people might start rejoicing that their finger- and toenails are growing at rocket speed, it means I have to cut them that more often, a task that for whatever reason is annoyingly tedious to me.
While I may be feeling very pregnant, I am unfortunately not looking like I am. Instead, I look like I have indulged in too many Little Debbie snack cakes. (Although nutrition and healthy eating were thrown by the wayside during my first trimester woes (*cough* tater-tots and ice cream *cough*), I never sank to such nutritionally depraved depths as to gorge on Little Debbie cakes. One’s standards must be kept, after all). *Lady Susan looks primly at her audience*. As proof of the above statement, I have chosen to display a highly realistic rendition of my current form.
As, you can see, I do not look pregnant, I look wide. However, I guess in 6 months time, I will appreciate this “pelvic floor widening” a little bit more as I attempt to push out something the approximate size of a bowling ball from my nether regions.