It's been two weeks since I've blogged here. As much as I love to blog and enjoy what a reprieve it is and how it's become part of my identity even, I sometimes just fall out of the habit of doing it or don't feel like I have much to say ... and also there was that one time last week when I took some pregnancy pictures to go along with a post I wanted to write and I looked all puffy and hippopotamusy and felt terrible about it and decided not to write the post at all.
I've also been busy, happily so. Through a sweet friend, I found a new part-time job that I get to do from home. It's an answered prayer. I'm wearing a whole bunch of hats for a home renovation company called Stratton Exteriors, focusing mainly on office management stuff, as well as blogging and social media. It's not stressful, it's been gratifying so far, and it's helping us make ends meet. After working for so many huge companies to whom I'm anonymous (my last job I never once met any of my bosses in person--all email, all the time), it's really nice to see how I can make a real difference to a small business. I've also been busy potty training my two-and-a-half year old. It hasn't been the swellest thing I ever did, but there's no turning back now. There are entire days when she doesn't have any accidents. And then there are other days when the washing machine fills up with pee-pee panties and towels and other unmentionables. But we are getting there.
Anyway, I do want to continue to capture this pregnancy here with photos and words. Here are a few progress snapshots from the last few weeks. I've been pretty regular about documenting my belly through my Instagram (I'm "blackandwhiteandlovedallover" if you want to follow me there) with biweekly-late-night-bathroom-mirror-pajama-shots.
I'm large, y'all. I haven't gotten on the scale in a couple of weeks but the last time I did it said I had gained 21 lbs. Baby Livvy should weigh nearly 5 lbs. now and is supposed to be 18 inches long, which will be very near to her length at birth. I am starting to get uncomfortable, having a lot of sciatic nerve pain in the backs of my thighs. ("Do down dog!" prescribes my yoga teacher friend.) And at night, my feet throb with twin heartbeats, even if I've hardly been on them that day. Plus, the exhaustion of the first trimester has returned. For some reason, I get most tired between the hours of 9 a.m. and 11 a.m., like cannot possibly keep my eyeballs open another second longer. This has opened up lots of bad mothering opportunities for me. There have been several times when I've put on a movie for Tessa and then gone off to take a nap--a drooling-dead-to-the-world kind of nap. A day when I get to have a nap is a good day. I'm trying not to beat myself up about this. Instead I make the most of the days when I mysteriously have energy. Though I am otherwise enjoying the hell out of pregnancy, I eye the finish line with excitement. I want to reclaim my body. I want to burn my maternity clothes. I want to have a few beers. I want to be able to dance around the living room with my daughter without feeling like a house. I want to stand up without groaning. I want to feel like a woman again, and not just a "pregnant lady." ("I just can't allow a pregnant lady to carry a computer to her car by herself," an Apple store employee said gallantly last week, making me feel pregnant, just pregnant, and not much of anything else.) Mostly, I want to lay eyes on my brand new daughter. I want to hold her to my chest, kiss her silky hair, examine her fingers and toes, watch her milky tongue unfurl in a yummy-smelling yawn.
Believe it or not, I'm also really excited about giving birth again. The day I gave birth to Tessa was one of the best of my life, and even though I was induced and had my water broken for me and had an epidural (one of those highly medicalized births that's so villainized these days) I had an almost perfect birth experience. This time I'm going to try to hold off on the induction and let my body go into labor on its own. Because this time I know that hurrying through these last days and weeks is pointless. Instead I'm going to focus on the daughter I have here now and continue to work on loving my new, temporary body for all of the hard work it's doing making the newest love of my life.
I've also been busy, happily so. Through a sweet friend, I found a new part-time job that I get to do from home. It's an answered prayer. I'm wearing a whole bunch of hats for a home renovation company called Stratton Exteriors, focusing mainly on office management stuff, as well as blogging and social media. It's not stressful, it's been gratifying so far, and it's helping us make ends meet. After working for so many huge companies to whom I'm anonymous (my last job I never once met any of my bosses in person--all email, all the time), it's really nice to see how I can make a real difference to a small business. I've also been busy potty training my two-and-a-half year old. It hasn't been the swellest thing I ever did, but there's no turning back now. There are entire days when she doesn't have any accidents. And then there are other days when the washing machine fills up with pee-pee panties and towels and other unmentionables. But we are getting there.
Anyway, I do want to continue to capture this pregnancy here with photos and words. Here are a few progress snapshots from the last few weeks. I've been pretty regular about documenting my belly through my Instagram (I'm "blackandwhiteandlovedallover" if you want to follow me there) with biweekly-late-night-bathroom-mirror-pajama-shots.
I'm large, y'all. I haven't gotten on the scale in a couple of weeks but the last time I did it said I had gained 21 lbs. Baby Livvy should weigh nearly 5 lbs. now and is supposed to be 18 inches long, which will be very near to her length at birth. I am starting to get uncomfortable, having a lot of sciatic nerve pain in the backs of my thighs. ("Do down dog!" prescribes my yoga teacher friend.) And at night, my feet throb with twin heartbeats, even if I've hardly been on them that day. Plus, the exhaustion of the first trimester has returned. For some reason, I get most tired between the hours of 9 a.m. and 11 a.m., like cannot possibly keep my eyeballs open another second longer. This has opened up lots of bad mothering opportunities for me. There have been several times when I've put on a movie for Tessa and then gone off to take a nap--a drooling-dead-to-the-world kind of nap. A day when I get to have a nap is a good day. I'm trying not to beat myself up about this. Instead I make the most of the days when I mysteriously have energy. Though I am otherwise enjoying the hell out of pregnancy, I eye the finish line with excitement. I want to reclaim my body. I want to burn my maternity clothes. I want to have a few beers. I want to be able to dance around the living room with my daughter without feeling like a house. I want to stand up without groaning. I want to feel like a woman again, and not just a "pregnant lady." ("I just can't allow a pregnant lady to carry a computer to her car by herself," an Apple store employee said gallantly last week, making me feel pregnant, just pregnant, and not much of anything else.) Mostly, I want to lay eyes on my brand new daughter. I want to hold her to my chest, kiss her silky hair, examine her fingers and toes, watch her milky tongue unfurl in a yummy-smelling yawn.
Believe it or not, I'm also really excited about giving birth again. The day I gave birth to Tessa was one of the best of my life, and even though I was induced and had my water broken for me and had an epidural (one of those highly medicalized births that's so villainized these days) I had an almost perfect birth experience. This time I'm going to try to hold off on the induction and let my body go into labor on its own. Because this time I know that hurrying through these last days and weeks is pointless. Instead I'm going to focus on the daughter I have here now and continue to work on loving my new, temporary body for all of the hard work it's doing making the newest love of my life.
