Pop! goes the belly
NS April 21st, 2008
On Thursday I began having Braxton Hicks (practice contractions that the uterus performs to prepare itself for labor) and could literally feel myself stretching and growing. By Friday, I no longer fit into any of my pre-pregnancy trousers. By Saturday, I was asked for the first time by a stranger if I was pregnant. By Sunday, the bottom button on my jacket popped off. As of today, it is getting uncomfortable to bend over to pick things up off the floor and I have to take a deep breath before leaning over the edge of the bed to put my socks on.
Ladies and gentlemen, we have a bump! It is ever-expanding, though still covered by a layer of post-my-last-baby-and-pre-this-one blubber, so mostly it just looks like I swallowed a small Yorkshire terrier and washed it down with ten gallons of Newcastle. And we all know that Yorkies can’t handle their booze.
But this means it’s official — I’m really having another baby, and in just under five months. Holy cannolli! I’m simultaneously extremely excited and terrified at the prospect of having two munchkins under my care at the same time (how exactly does one do that while staying sane?) but a little more of the former than the latter at the moment. Plenty of time for freaking out later, like after the baby is born and it’s too late, right? You women with two or more kids, just smile and nod politely and make reassuring ‘oohing’ noises. Unless you found becoming the mother of two children under three years apart so joyful and carefree that you have nothing but heartwarming tales to impart, in which case feel free to tell me how wonderful it will be from the get-go and how I won’t ever contemplate throwing myself off of a bridge while shouting “Whyyyyyyyyyyy???!!!!”
‘Cause right now I’m enjoying my little belly and would like to stay in a state of ignorant bliss for just a little longer. That’s not called denial, is it?
