The Roaming Rosie Blog

When I was making breakfast this morning and reaching in the fridge for my orange juice, I happened to notice the expiration date on the half & half:  03/15/2010.  March fifteenth?  But – that’s my due date!  Did I lose track of time?  Did I sleep away a couple dozen days?

No, nothing so drastic.  It’s just that the half & half is good for quite awhile.  Fifty-three more days to be exact (if left unopened).

But that split second was enough to scare me.  Am I ready for all this?  Is the baby really coming soon?  Why hasn’t the realtor had any new news about the house we’ve put a bid on?  Do short sales always take this long?  Will we be bringing this baby into the world while living out of one bedroom of my parent’s house?  Do I still have time to get all the stuff I really need to have for the baby – somewhere to sleep and a car seat and diapers and Lord-only-know-what-else-because-I-sure-as-hell-don’t-know-what-I’m-doing?

And this afternoon a package arrives bearing a baby gift.  It’s exciting and sweet and I’m flattered that an out-of-state friend would take the time to send something, though it somehow feels awkward to be accepting gifts for a little person who’s still mostly a mystery to me.  I’m thrilled about all the cute baby stuff, but there’s still a little voice way back in my brain asking, “Why are people giving us all these presents?”

I know the answer, of course, but that doesn’t make it any less surreal.

Everything seems to be moving so fast that I’m glad to announce that at least my weight gain has stabilized to a more traditional expectation.  Two weeks ago I had been feeling really heavy and huge and quite a few people had been commenting that I had suddenly “popped” and gotten much bigger, but I was still surprised to hear the OBGYN techs tell me that I had gained nine pounds in four weeks.  Nine pounds?  In four weeks?  No wonder I felt bloated and uncomfortable.  That’s quite a growth spurt.

But after another two weeks, the tech reported a weight-gain of only two pounds.  Two pounds I can handle – that’s a pound a week, which is what the doctors had told me to expect.  But that still leaves me with another seven weeks and potential seven more pounds to look forward to when I’m already growing out of some of my smaller maternity tops and walking into doorframes and countertops because I keep forgetting how much of me (and her) there now is.

It’s scary enough that we’re bringing a new little child into this world, but it’s even scarier that before she’s even arrived, everything else has already changed.

Pregnancy is a strange creature.  There are many aspects of the pregnancy that I anticipated, but not always in the way the symptoms actually manifest themselves.  I knew I’d be tired, so when I spent most of my first trimester just working and sleeping and halfway comatose on the couch, I was frustrated but not surprised.  Lack of energy is typical in the first trimester.  But here I am, many weeks into my second trimester, and I still haven’t experienced that sudden burst of energy I keep hearing about.  Sure, I have energy, but very little.

Is it because of my allergies?  Is it because I’ve got a lot on my mind and I’m not sleeping well?  Or just my body’s reaction to growing a little person?  Why, yesterday, did I get shaky and feel like I’d collapse when I was folding one load of laundry from the dryer, putting another load in, breading a pork loin and constructing twice-baked potatoes for dinner?  Was it just the heat in the kitchen and laundry room?  Had I not been drinking enough water?  I’m not sure.  But after making a salad and veggie side dish and setting the table and helping to clean up afterwards, I couldn’t seem to do much except sit on the couch and watch TV all night.  I felt weak, so much so that I didn’t even have the energy to pull out my laptop to write in my journal.  Even the thought of doing that exhausted me.

There are many other things that surprised me as well.  It’s a joyful experience to feel the baby kicking me, but I’ve found that I also worry much more than I thought I would.  Why don’t I feel her moving more often?  Well, I know it’s because of the placement of my placenta and how it cushions her movements so that she must kick pretty hard for me to feel it.  My husband, in fact, has only felt her once, even though he’s sat there with his hand on my stomach while I feel movement.  So I still wonder.  It surprises me that I can be so happy and so worried at the same time.

And none of my bras fit.  Even the ones I bought a few weeks ago at Victoria’s Secret that were on sale and a cup size bigger are now a little awkward.  Does that mean I’ve gone up two cup sizes?  When will it stop?  I’ve already noticed one stretch mark, which freaked me out, and so I make sure to apply cocoa butter every night now to both my boobs and tummy.  I know I’m genetically prone to stretch marks anyway, but it’s worth a try.  I’m a little surprised the growing rack is not as exciting as I’d hoped.  It just produces more questions:  how many more bras will I have to buy?  Will my boobs keep growing?  And what size will they be after the birth and breastfeeding?  Will I have to buy all new shirts?  Will I care at all once I’m holding my little baby girl in my arms?

I guess the worrying and the questions are normal.  I never realized the acne and pimples of a 16-year-old would also be normal, but, in a weird way, I think I like the surprises.  After all, this is a completely new journey in life, and one that I’ve always looked forward to.  I look forward to more surprises (and less pimples) as time goes by, because really, how many times in life do we get to experience something so new and incredible?  Something that plays out much the way we though it would, but also completely exceeds every expectation?