Monday, October 15, 2012

I'll admit something that I probably shouldn't

Week 33 1/2.  Eight months pregnant would you say? Deep into the 3rd trimester? Whatever you want to call it, I'm there. I haven't blogged about pregnancy even though this is my first go around with it.  Heck, haven't even written about it at all.  Despite that fact, it's safe to say I've enjoyed the majority of the last 3 quarters of the year.  I heard wonderful things, and awful things about pregnancy. But mostly awful things.

"You're going to get really fat, but it's ok, because you'll lose it."
"Breastfeeding will be your best friend.  It will be a nightmare at first, so take it day by day. But then all of that extra cellulite you've acquired on the back of your thighs and butt will magically disappear."
"You're going to be so exhausted you'll start excusing yourself to bed at 7pm every night."
"You won't 'feel' cute and pregnant until you're at least 20 weeks along."

The list goes on...

Oddly enough, most of this is true. Yet, it's strange to say that I've sort of, kind of, enjoyed being pregnant.  Maybe even liked it a tad.  Granted, if I make it the full 40 weeks I still have a good month and plus some left to go.  Many experienced preggos will say that is when you really feel like a heffalump and sheer exhuastion sets in.  But, at this point, I'm still a happy camper toting around a large midsection we call Maddox.
Now I have to admit, there have been a few things I've missed most since becoming pregnant.  Champagne, obviously.  A cold Corona Light with a lime, naturally. But more importantly, cute clothes! Yes, I can honestly say that it's not so much the abstinence of booze, the rising number on the scale, or even the complete elimination of my favorite seared ahi dish.  The worst part about this whole thing is the fact that I can't enjoy the latest fashion trends I'd once become accustomed to.  A lacy peplum top, no can do.  A pair of high rise denim skinnies, not a chance.  My "uniform" now consists of Gap Maternity leggings (amazing by the way), and several shift dresses I rotate on a weekly basis.  I know you're probably thinking, geeze lady, go run to Destination Maternity and pick up some maternity clothes if it's that big of a deal.  But, it's not that easy.  Not only are their prices RI-DIC-U-LOUS, but they truly don't fit that great either.  A few purchases I splurged on included slacks for work and a few conservative tops to go along with them.  Other than that, not a whole lot of stylish maternity options unless you want to break the bank.

I will mention that pregnancy has made my once selfish husband extremely doting. When I say selfish, I don't really mean selfish.  He's not like a lot of men in the fact that he doesn't help out around the house.  He is a big chore guy! Mostly because I'm not, so someone's gotta pick up the slack.  He's always preferred to do the laundry himself.  Again, because I would let our clean clothes marinate in the dryer if I had it my way.  Not by choice really, just out of procrastination and laziness.  So, for the last 3 years of our marriage, he's made it his duty to do all of our laundry.  Kind of cool gig I got goin, huh?  But, I enjoy cooking and serving whatever he likes on a daily basis so there's a trade off.  That's what marriage is all about I suppose.  I will point out he is the baby of the family, and the only boy to make matters worse.  So he lived a pretty cush life growing up.  His mom put a wet towel over his eyes to slowly wake him up for school in the morning.  Even warmed his undies on the heater so his buns were nice and toasty during the cold winter months.  I think it's safe to say he lived the life of a young prince.  Luckily for me, he's rarely demanded such outrageous, diva-like requests, so I like to do nice things for him when he leasts expects it. Because of this holy honor he has held, you'd think he'd be a nightmare to deal with since his wife would be posted up on the couch, too tired to make him his favorite meal.  But in fact, the exact opposite is true. I think he's reveled in the fact that I am putting my body through such strain and agony to start our family. (Or so he thinks)  I have yet to clue him in that it is really not the case. It's not like I'll be birthing septuplets or that my dreams and aspirations include mimicking the life of Michelle Duggar from 19 Kids and Counting.  Nope, I keep it completely confidential that I've loved this thing called pregnancy. He reminds me on a daily basis about how grateful he is that I am growing his unborn child, and I treasure his appreciation too much to tamper that.

So from March to October, I can honestly say that not only have I embraced my road to motherhood, but I've truly taken a liking to the twists and turns this little ADHD-inevitable monster performs; even if it is 4:30 in the morning.  I'm sure a lot of you mamas will tell me to come back and write another blog a month from now when I'm literally ready to pop, but until then, most of it feels pretty good. And although I am not super excited about already not sleeping through the night, and feeling sky high body termperatures that could cook a Medium-Rare filet at best; I cannot put into words how thankful I am for a husband who is overjoyed to become a father to a son, and a wild nugget that never seems to sleep.



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