I forgot what it was like to be pregnant. It's hard.
It's even harder with a very active and mobile 9 month old who has suddenly decided that he never, ever again wants to spend longer than 5 seconds on his back, which makes it really hard to change his diaper or put clothes on him.
What I wouldn't give for him to have an ounce of reason and logic, so I could just be like, "Listen, kid. If you would sit still for literally one minute, this will all be over. And I wouldn't have to pin you down with one arm so you scream and scream while I change you with the other. And you wouldn't have to get the 'Is she MAD at me???' injured Bambi look on your face when I forget myself and curse under my breath because you grabbed your dirty diaper and made turds roll everywhere."
And after I say that to him, sudden awareness would dawn and he would be like, "Oh, ok Mommy! I love you! You're the best and I promise to never repeat the bad words you say while we're in public and especially never in church when it's dead quiet."
So I think having a squirmy bundle of a child who is growing alarmingly heavy and harder to carry makes this pregnancy just a wee bit harder than the last, but it's harder in different ways.
I'm still exhausted. I still sink into the couch at night and ask D if he's ready for bed. D still looks at the clock and says in disgust, "It's only 9:15!" And we still battle over how much longer we should stay downstairs while I nod off and snore, disrupting whatever "awesome" show he happens to be watching. (Yeah, D forgot about the snoring. And the sad thing is, he knows it only gets worse. Once we hit 3rd tri, it will be totally pointless for him to attempt to watch tv while I'm sleeping because he won't be able to hear it over the snoring. And if he dares to wake me up to tell me to pipe down, he will still get the same tongue lashings he got last time I was pregnant, only this time I will mean them much, much more.)
When I was pregnant with L, I would come home from work every day and take a wonderful afternoon nap. Now, I could probably do that if I wanted, but I feel really bad because it usually means taking advantage of my parents and making them watch L while I nap. And they already help out so, so much that I just can't assuage the guilt enough to even allow myself to fall asleep. So, I just pretty much live with the fatigue.
The worry is also different this time around. I used to worry because I had absolutely zero clue what I was getting myself into. Now, I worry because I 100% know what I'm getting myself into. And I'm half-dreading, half-welcoming it.
Welcoming: 3 month baby vacation (if I'm not laid off by then anyway); small, snuggly baby who sleeps all the time and anywhere; tiny little clothes that are melt-worthy; feeding the baby free food made by yours truly; eagerly watching for those little milestones that send me up to Cloud 9 (especially the indescribably exciting first real smile); not second-guessing every single thing I'm doing since I'll have already done it once before.
Dreading: Baby who has days and nights confused and decides that it's time to party at 11 p.m.; baby who only sleeps 2-3 hours at a time; huge, painful boobs that leak everywhere and which no bra on earth can contain; the physical birthing of the child that leads to the 2-month period; not being able to go anywhere without baby or pump (please refer back to huge, painful boobs); the hormone dive that may or may not lead to a repeat severe case of baby blues.
I know it looks like I'm dreading more than I'm excited about, but the sum of the "Welcoming" category far exceeds the sum of the "Dreading" category. So there you go.
One perk this time around is that I had some pretty bad nausea that has finally started to lift in the past week or two. (I know, I know - you women who have endured relentless morning sickness want to kill me right now. I would feel the same way.) How is this possibly a perk? Well, I've lost 8 pounds already. Go me! I know you're not supposed to lose weight while you're pregnant, but the vain side of me is really enjoying the ease with which these pounds seem to be melting off. When I'm not pregnant, it takes extreme sacrifice, mental strength, and 4-6 weeks to lose that kind of weight. During this pregnancy, it took 3 weeks and a total aversion to all foods.
But now that the nausea is subsiding, I'm really, really excited about experiencing hunger again. So I'm eating more. But I think I'll be ok, since I've recently come to the conclusion that my parents' house is a natural snack suppressant for me. For one thing, there are more witnesses to what I'm eating, and my mom isn't afraid to be like, "Didn't you just eat a bowl of cereal and 3 cookies? Do you really need that mini pizza?" For another, the sheer fact that the layout of the house is different from our house. In our house, the kitchen is 3 steps from the living room. In my parents' house, I have to exit our living room, turn a couple corners, and walk all the way to the far corner of the kitchen to the fridge. It's really not that far, but when I'm molded to the couch from the exhaustion, those many extra steps don't seem worth whatever treat awaits on the other end.
So I guess what they say is true - every pregnancy is different. And I'm not even really "that" pregnant yet. I'm almost to second tri, though, and my fingers are crossed that it's as enjoyable this time around as it was last time. Around 2nd tri, my fatigue started to lift and I started to show for real. Last time, I felt really embarrassed about switching to maternity clothes before I was actually "showing", despite the fact that none of my pants fit and I hated the BeBand and the rubber band trick. This time, I'm loud and proud and in maternity pants. If you think it's too early, then I welcome you to wear jeans and pants that fit everywhere else but are 2 sizes too small in the zipper/button area for a couple days. Then, see if you still begrudge me my stretchy pants. The baby bump is just a formality at this point.