I can’t believe we made it to twelve weeks. Twelve weeks! This morning, I ventured over to FF for the first time in many weeks to see that it reads “Trimester: 2.” Much crying ensued. I’m in shock, but there really is no denying it. We’re in our second trimester, and this baby is growing and growing.
I take issue with all of the conflicting information on when the second trimester begins. There’s the developmental trimester system, which has the second beginning at 12 weeks, the gestational trimester, and more. Some have it starting at 14 weeks post conception! That’s just too long of an exhale waiting period. I’ll take the earliest date any chance I get.
I’m really feeling pretty good. The ick is almost gone. There are a few things that still set it off. For example, while Indian food has always been one of my favorite cuisines, the smell of it wafting up from my bottom floor neighbors’ apartment is enough to send me into a nauseated tail spin. I am eating meat occasionally again though, and I even occasionally cook and eat dinner with my wife again. These are great developments.
In fact, my appetite in general is very good. Too good sometimes. I might eat a nice-sized snack, and only an hour later am ravenous again. My wife has been lovely about keeping snacks in me, and she even gets up when I wake up famished at 4am to get me a quick nibble or glass of milk. I’m a lucky girl.
Sadly, my first-trimester orgasm dreams seem to have subsided, although I did have another recently. Other dreams are becoming crazier. Two nights ago, I dreamt that I rode a bike from here to Humboldt (a five-hour trip by car) while rather pregnant. Sometimes the dreams are a little scarier, and sometimes I just feel a presence and wake myself whimpering. I could do without these sorts of dreams.
One of the coolest and strangest developments is that I can feel my uterus. I can feel it when I’m walking around, and I can feel it when I lean against something. This week, when our niece was visiting, I laid down with her to take a nap and had her on me, but I had to move her away from my belly because I could really feel her pressing on my uterus. It’s a strange feeling–almost as though someone has placed a very full water balloon in my lower abdomen. I like it, but when I start thinking that this is the thing that is going to stretch and stretch, it seems strange. I can’t say I have ever felt anything quite like this.
I am officially out of my regular clothes, except for yoga pants and such. This may be one of those rare occasions when I’m happy to be a larger gal because the maternity pants almost work for me. I don’t look pregnant at all, mind you–just much fatter. The thing that keeps me a little more sane about this is that I haven’t gained more than a pound, so I can’t feel too bad about myself. I just hoped that the body image issues wouldn’t follow me into pregnancy. Unfortunately, there is no escaping them. I’ll have to write more about this later. Clearly I’m going to require some blogtherapy.
On this same note, however, I have had three different people pat the fat on my upper belly. These are people I know, but it’s still a little unnerving. Granted, I wouldn’t have wanted them to pat me quite as low as they would have needed to in order to actually pat my uterus, but it’s still disconcerting to have my belly fat rubbed. I’m beginning to wonder how I will handle the future belly rubs. I guess I hadn’t considered it much until now.
I’m beginning to sound cranky, though, and I don’t mean to because I generally am not. I am thrilled to have made it this far, and I am finally looking forward to the coming months with more than a little cautious optimism. Perhaps it’s just time I had another snack.