Pregnancy Cliche

Well, here we are, at the precipice of the third trimester, and all I can think is, "Geez, am I textbook or what?"

During the first trimester, I was, by all accounts, a slug.  Life consisted of dragging myself out of bed at the last possible moment, driving to work, doing my makeup in the parking lot, driving home, collapsing on the couch, watching embarrassing amounts of Law and Order while eating embarrassing amounts of peanut butter (on toast, on granola bars, on apples, on a spoon, with or without chocolate chips) and dragging myself upstairs to bed to start the entire process over again.

The second trimester may have been the best I've ever felt- even pre-pregnancy.  I don't know if it was endorphines or "the glow" or just the knowledge that you're supposed to feel great during the second trimester, but whatever it was, it worked.  I had lots of energy, was ambitious and motivated and my physical symptoms were somewhat limited (aside from the growing bump and leaking bladder, of course!)  I fully intended to carry this energy with me through to the end of the pregnancy- I was going to be the exception to the rule and be the most dynamic of super-pregnant ladies.

And then Sunday night hit.

Sunday, of course, was the NFC Championship game, and my team, the Giants, were playing in it.  The game was intense right through to the last play- ending in overtime- a.k.a. way past my bedtime.  Of course I wouldn't have missed it- couldn't have slept through it if I tried.  My heart was pounding for much of it (though Zandar did catch my sleepy expression a couple of times and tried to insist that I go to bed.  She also tried to keep me from my excessive celebration, you know, so I didn't go into labor.  She's so funny).  When the Super Bowl match up was locked up, I immediately hit the sack and conked out.  Only to be awakened a few hours later with the most insane heartburn I have ever experienced in my life.

I had heard about the heartburn and read about the heartburn, but thought that I was just getting lucky, as I had with a number of other symptoms.  Turns out that I didn't dodge this one.  It was there, and it brought with it the vengeance of all of those other symptoms I had skirted.  For hours, I laid in bed and felt the firey heat rise up from my chest through my throat over and over and over again.  I was burping and tossing and turning for much of the night.  It was a truly heinous experience that I couldn't fully wrap my mind around because I was in that weird foggy, sleepy state where you can have an hour and a half long debate with yourself about the pros and cons of getting up to use the bathroom.

Luckily, since then, it has not been as bad, though it's been persistent.  I've stopped having any carbonated beverages, like the seltzer I begrudgingly replaced my nightly diet root beer with after getting pregnant.  I don't even like seltzer, but it felt like more of a "treat" than plain water, to which, it would seem, I am now relegated.  I also can't eat large amounts of food at one sitting any longer, which is foreign territory for me because, as you know, Mama likes to eat.  If I stuff myself to the point where I usually do though, I feel like the food is piling up within my esophagus.  Gross.  So small meals, water, and Tums it is, at least for now.

In other news, Baby H is getting big!  He or she is about 14 1/2 inches this week and weighs around 2 lbs, or as the pregnancy app I have says, "weighs about as much as a head of cauliflower."  Remarkably, if she or he was born today, Baby H would be just fine- with lots of medical help, of course. That is pretty darn amazing!  I can feel when he/she has the hiccups, which is about once or twice a day.  Baby H is very active, especially when I play music on my Belly Buds- little headphones that adhere to my belly.  It is so funny to feel him or her kick around in response to classical music, or more recently, the sound of Ivan's voice.  We are getting so antsy to meet our new little family member.

Speaking of Ivan, we continue the pregnancy cliche by being the new, nesting parents.  Over the past two weeks, we've had some painting done, including Baby H's nursery.  The little room has been emptied of the tons of junk we didn't even know we were storing in there and Ivan has rebuilt the closets- one for linens and the other for the baby, complete with dressers and tiny little hangers.  Thanks to our amazing parents, our crib and mattress are on their way to our house and things are really coming together.  I must confess that Ivan was right when he consoled me a few weeks ago during a slight panic attack about our preparedness by saying that it will be done before we know it.  Funny how the quote from the movie "Old School" really rings true:

"We've got a nice little Saturday planned out- a trip to Home Depot, maybe Bed Bath and Beyond... I don't know- I don't know if we'll have the time."

Our lifestyle is changing already.  Though we're still trying to see friends on the weekends, have people over, play with the band, there's no escaping it.  We're becoming those people- what do you call them?  Oh yeah- parents.