She’s dancing. She started dancing at 8 a.m. this morning and hasn’t stopped since. I’m convinced my little bundle of joy has decided she is going to be a dancer or maybe just a mover and a shaker. Whichever one she chooses, feeling her move in my belly gives me the greatest joy.
I sit at my desk giggling as my baby wiggles, rolls, and hiccups throughout the day. I’m sure my coworkers think I’ve gone off the deep end, but it doesn’t matter. She’s in there. Despite the sleeplessness, the hormonal crying, and the pain (from the fibroid), I am enjoying my pregnancy. Feeling Junior wiggle around in my belly is probably the most glorious feeling I’ve had in my life.
As I sit here writing this, Junior is kicking, somersaulting, possibly sucking her thumb. She’s a little life inside me that has a mind (and thoughts) of her own. I know she won’t be in here for long. So, every time I feel movement, I remind myself she’ll only be this small once — enjoy it.
The thought of her little body moving brings a smile to my face and a deep, warm love, I’ve only ever felt for my husband.
Little Junior, you will be my teacher and my companion — with you, I will learn the meaning of true, fathomless love.
I’m 21 weeks and four days. This pregnancy has not been easy, but at least I could say I’ve been able to avoid the constant crying spells. Not anymore. Now, everything drives me crazy. I can’t seem to stop crying. I get home from work a nervous, crying wreck. It’s been two weeks. I can’t control these crying sprees or feelings of helplessness.
As I sit here with Junior somersaulting in my belly, on the soft makeshift nest my husband has made for me from all the blankets in the house, I know I’m lucky. But I can’t shake this feeling.
People I could talk to on a regular basis, prior to my pregnancy, now completely drive me crazy. I’ve isolated myself, or tried to isolate myself, from people who stress me out and trigger my crying episodes, but it’s not easy – especially at work.
I maintain my close network and reach out when I can, but I feel like a ticking time bomb.
Anyone else feel this way?
I wish I could be like this guy…
I just finished Knocked Up by Rebecca Eckler. At first, I read this book because I thought it would be funny. I didn’t realize that “Hip Mother-to-Be” meant whiny bitch who does nothing but think about herself.
The whole book put a bad taste in my mouth. I tried to find humor in it. I read and re-read some of these pages. But, in the end, I felt like I wasted my hard earned money and wanted to return the book.
I believe I felt so strongly about this because a) the author only cared about herself and her own happiness; b) she was really whiny and this lost its luster after 3 pages; and c) the book was repetitive — the whole book was about how she was getting fat, couldn’t drink (but she did), and couldn’t smoke (which she also did). Ugh.
So, to you dear readers, I will say, if you have time to waste and feel like wasting a few hours of your life. I’d suggest this book. Otherwise, I highly recommend you visit MODG’s Blog. She’s much more entertaining.
P.S., As a side note, in the book Rebecca would like to name her child “Apple”. I was so upset by this book, I wrote in a previous blog post that I would never name my child “Apple”.
This wouldn’t have been an issue, but at the time I wrote the comment I forgot my best friend, sister, and confidante, named her Guinea Pig “Apple” once upon a time. I loved that Guinea Pig and I was super impressed by my BFFs creativity. I can’t believe I was so angered by the book, I forgot my best friend’s guinea pig was named Apple. Looking back, I’ve realized it wasn’t the name “Apple” that horrified me. It was the book — the book entirely pissed me off.
We like to call you junior because whether or not you are a boy or a girl, you will still be junior to us If you are a boy, your father would like to name you Jack. If you are a girl, your father would like to name you Jacqueline. I’m not sure how I feel on this topic, but only time will tell if he wears me down.
Secretly, peanut, just between you and me, I don’t mind naming you Jack. There are so many famous writers named Jack. Like Jack Kerouac or Jack London. Okay, maybe just two. If you are a girl, we could name you after Jacqueline Kennedy, fashion icon and first lady. Never, ever would we consider naming you Apple.
Either way, boy or girl, your daddy and I love you. Even though you are just a sesame seed right now, your daddy likes to place his hand on my belly and smiles.
Despite the previous entries and the, sometimes, irreverent tone, we are extremely excited about you, junior. I’m just worried about whether or not I will be a good mommy to you. I’m reading all sorts of baby and mother hood books and blogs. I also am asking lots of other mothers for their input on raising a child.
Knowing that we are going to have you has made me a little more mature, even though it may not seem like it.
Your daddy and I can’t wait to meet you!! See you in 8 months, sweetie!!
So, here is the conversation that ensued last night:
Me (text message): I’m pregnant
Phone (10 minutes later): K, you are not pregnant.
Me: I am! I’m looking at the stick RIGHT NOW! It is clear as day.
DH: False alarm.
Me: I’m pregnant!
DH: No, I won’t believe it till I see it.
(Rustling around in the background. DH making a list of things we have to do in case I really am pregnant).
DH: Send me the test picture:
Me: Told you!
DH: I don’t believe it. I think it’s a false alarm. But there’s a possibility. Definitely a possibility.
This morning I peed on a digital test. Pregnant! (See picture in previous post).
DH: Well, that’s something. Hello, Jr!