Somewhere in these last two weeks, I suddenly began to feel…well, pregnant. Funny how for weeks and weeks, people ask, “So how are you feeling?,” and you think to yourself, “Huh. I guess fine, ’cause I haven’t given it a second thought.” And then suddenly, one morning, you feel…well, pregnant.
And I’ll write out what I mean by that, since I seem to totally and completely forget during that blissful second trimester that I happily, ignorantly traipse through.
Pregnant: Exhausted. Out of breath. Out of shape. Sore. Aching back. Swollen feet. Swollen fingers. Swollen everything. Actually, just fat. Grumpy-ish (sorry, Ry.) Uncomfortable. Strange constant pressure on bladder (strange because it’s pressure from the outside, as opposed to the inside.) Strange pressure elsewhere that suddenly makes walking a huge endeavor. Did I mention out of shape? Yeah.
I kind of sort of forgot about this part. I guess it’s a little late now to back out? Yeah.
The bad news: Other things that I’ve kind of sort of forgotten about are inevitably going to come, and they will be far less fun.
The good news: This is not a malady. This is pregnancy. That means that there’s a baby at the end of all this.
(I wish I was mature enough to remember that when I’m fretting over my fat face in the morning. Sheesh.)