Pregnancy Update

Friday marked 28 weeks pregnant and the official start of the third trimester.  Let the waddling begin! 

Thanks, Key West, for making me blonde again.

Baby girl and I celebrated the occasion by spending all evening at the hospital in labor & delivery.  I woke up with some mild discomfort in the lower abdomen and by lunchtime it was so bad I could not walk without crying.  For exactly the second time in 69 combined weeks of pregnancy, I made a non-routine call to my OB (the other time was after I fell down the stairs and got into a car accident in the same week), who understands that I am Not A Wuss and told me to go to the hospital.  Five hours and one of those awful hep-lock things in my hand later, they ruled out early labor and other serious conditions, and discharged me with instructions to lie on the couch a lot.  Now that the pain is less intense and I have nothing to do but putter on the computer, I have internet-diagnosed myself with an injured abdominal muscle.  We'll see what my doctor thinks of that theory at our follow-up tomorrow.

My pregnancy advice: do not let your 30-lb toddler use your bump as a saddle. 

Mommy: not unlike riding a camel.

Y'all, bed rest is boring.  Three days of sitting around and I'm already a little stir-crazy.  We always say it would be nice to do nothing, but we don't mean "nothing."  We mean "play with the kid" or "go on a walk" or "putter in the garden" or "get my own damn cheese out of the refrigerator."  I feel really bad for women who get stuck on bed rest for weeks and weeks.

Pregnancy #2 is definitely harder.  Carol had always told me that she loved being pregnant, but since my own mother spent 9.5 months throwing up, I was fully expecting to spend my pregnancies cursing my mother-in-law and all other glowing pregnant women.  Turns out I was pretty awesome at being pregnant the first time around.  I felt good other than the usual minor complaints, wasn't sick for very long, had no complications, had cravings that my husband fully supported (hello, red meat for three straight weeks), and felt very cute except for the last four enormous weeks.  Feeling Henry move was the highlight of my day every time it happened.  I could have lived without that 41st week, but for the most part, I really loved being pregnant.  This time around, I spend less time focusing on the delightful aspects (though I do enjoy ordering an entire cup of queso by myself at Qdoba and still having the cashier tell me I look beautiful instead of giving me a look of mild revulsion), and it's more physically taxing when you add a toddler and more professional responsibilities to the mix. 

But all in all, we're fine.  I'm feeling better, baby girl is looking good, and Henry is getting some extra Daddy time.  Twelve weeks and counting!