Well, that was certainly a long weekend! As it turns out, I just don’t have enough spoons to clean the house, do the laundry, take the cats outside, run errands, have people over for dinner and write the blog, not to mention making myself look like the foxy mama I am. (If you don’t know what I’m talking about when I say “spoons”, click the link above and give it a read. It’s a great description of what people with chronic and invisible illnesses deal with on a daily basis.) The the blog is what took the hit, so I’ve had to rethink how I’m going to be doing things. I will be catching up on all the missed daily features, and I’m going to do my best to get those done every single say. However, there may not be a life post every day, and that’s all right.
I tried to spread the cleaning of the house out over last week, but most of it ended up getting concentrated between Thursday and Saturday. It got done, but it left me feeling more tired than I planned on being. Shawn, as always was a huge help. He took an extra day off because he was getting a nasty cold and feeling very burned out, and I have to admit that it was nice to have the time. A few small errands got done (we got new garbage and recycling bins!), and we had some spare time to sit and play Torchlight II together.
Saturday was great because we spent it cooking and hanging out with two of our best friends and their adorable little man. He was fascinated by the cats, who, in turn, were terrified of him. I think it was the loud, excited squealing that was making the unsure of the whole thing. Milo just watched him from a distance, but Odie, who Alex wanted to touch more than anything, bolted whenever the little guy started crawling towards him. I tend to forget what a wimp he is until we try and introduce him to something new. It takes him a while to get used to new.
Watching Alex (who is nine months) with the kitties got us thinking about how they’re going to react when our Tiny Human is born. I think the main reason they weren’t so sure of Alex is because of his loud, adorable enthusiasm. They had no idea that the squeals and piercing noises coming out of the little creature were being made because we was excited to see them. They just knew that it was a noise they had never heard and they wanted it to stop. Obviously, the Tiny Human is not going to be born chasing them down at every opportunity, and being raised in a house with cats will be a lot different than never being exposed to them. I think we’ve come to the conclusion that they will watch the Tiny Human grow, the Tiny Human will always have them around, and there should be no problems. We’ll just have to wait and see if we’re right.
On the topic of pregnancy, I’m 18 weeks today! I don’t know where the time has gone. It feels like we were just at the wedding, as of yet completely unaware that we had successfully procreated. Now, the Tiny Human wiggles and rolls around several times a day, and I’m just waiting for the moment when Shawn will be able to feel it from the outside like I can from the inside. I know he’s going to love it. It’s such an interesting sensation, and I’ve found that the vibrations from the cats purring will put the Tiny Human to sleep. Hopefully this means it’s going to like cats.
I’ve started talking to it more, and it won’t be long before it can actually hear our voices. I love the thought of it being born with the ability to recognize us when we talk. There’s a little bit of magic in that, I think. I’ve always thought the bonding process starts well before birth, and talking to my belly is a huge part of that for me.
I’m still getting people who are telling me what to do, and as much as it still pisses me off, I think I’m just going to have to get used to it. What I’m eating, when I’m eating, how much I’m eating, and what I weigh in at seem to be public forums for the moment. The funny thing is that the people who are the closest to me (my husband and my mum), don’t really care. Shawn would notice if I stopped eating at all, but he’s not going to force me to eat something if I’m not hungry. That would most likely make me feel terrible, and I’m only puking a few times a week, so why risk upsetting the balance? I wouldn’t eat unless I was hungry before. Nothing has changed now. If I wasn’t getting enough of something, the Tiny Human wouldn’t be growing, and I can assure you that it is.
My eight, on the other hand, is something I wish people would leave alone. It’s a touchy subject for me anyway, most of the time, and being pregnant hasn’t changed that. I also don’t like it when people imply, whether they try to be subtle about it or not, that I’m doing something wrong because I haven’t gained baby weight yet. I had some extra for my height to begin with, so putting on ten pounds or more in the first trimester and a half wouldn’t make sense for my body. That’s right: it’s still my body, regardless of the Tiny Human taking up residence until February. My body belongs to me and it, so please mind your own business.
I have been having more moments (and days) when I feel horrible and disproportionate. I can usually fix that if I get dressed and do my face, but if I’m sitting around with no pants on, I tend to feel like crap. Shawn has been doing his best to make me feel gorgeous. He honestly thinks I am gorgeous, so I’m sure it’s not hard for him. Whenever I say I’m feeling fat and ungainly, he’ll counter with something like, “You’re not fat, at all. You’re pregnant. And not even a little bit pregnant. Very pregnant. You look amazing.” Just looking at him, I know he means it. There would have been a time in my life where I may have been suspicious, where I may have thought the other person was just telling me what I wanted to hear. I don’t have to worry about that with my husband. He’s no afraid to tell me things the way they are, and he’s always honest when I need him to be. It’s been a lifesaver on the days when I just don’t feel like myself.
I can get to a point of feeling like my fabulous self. it just takes a little more effort than normal. We went out for dinner last night, and I made sure I showered, shaved my legs, did my face (because doing my face is one of my favourite things, hands down) and put on the awesome new wrap dress I bought. I even managed to wear one of my favourite pairs of shoes, in spite of the four inch heels. I looked frakking awesome, I was living proof that you can be pregnant, have a not-so-easy pregnancy, and still be smokin’ hot.
Now, I came across this ridiculous article yesterday, entitled, “Real moms VS Yummy Mommies“. It’s basically saying that “real moms” give up on themselves, and the “yummy mommies” that you see in the media and flouncing around town are ridiculous creatures who obviously have tons of cash and nothing better to do than spoil themselves rotten. How does that make sense? The “On Skincare” section was particularly confusing. Why would I stop washing or caring for my skin? I also liked the “On morning sickness” section: I was intimately acquainted with my toilet bowl, but when I needed to go out, I made damn sure I looked amazing. Was I trying to hide what I was going through? No, but looking nice when I went out made me feel better, so why wouldn’t I do it.
Some of the things on the list are just horrible assumptions about a certain kind of person. That girl is pregnant, wearing high heels and colouring her hair on a regular basis! She must also have a personal trainer and be completely vapid! No. If you have the time and the energy, why wouldn’t you spend some of it on yourself? Goodness knows it’s not going to be easy once your baby is actually born. (The funny thing is that the same website recommends to go out and get a pedicure, pre-birth hair cut, etc. Hypocritical much?) I don’t plan to give up on myself or my sense of self ever, so I suppose this article just rubbed me the wrong way. I an blame the hormones if I want to.
Tomorrow, we are off to the OB to get checked out and get a heartbeat update. I can’t wait. My calm, rational self knows that everything is fine, but the panicky psycho in the background needs to hear the heartbeat and be reassured. My mum is coming with me tomorrow so she can get a listen, and so she can give Shawn a break from the waiting room for a while. The ultrasound appointment on the 11th was what he wanted to put priority on, and that’s fair enough. He’s heard the heartbeat. He likes seeing the Tiny Human more.