Which is kinda how I feel about being pregnant. Like it's a nice enough way to be, just not where I belong. I'm 40. I know, 40s not that old... lots of women choose to have babies in their 40s and it all works out well for them. And it'll likely work out just fine for us, too. I worry though that my Advanced Maternal Age will lead to a baby with problems. A child who will have more needs, who will suffer. I pray not.
The whole house is a complete disaster - I've had to move everything around, take stuff off of walls and shelves, etc. - for the painters. We've eaten our meals on the beds upstairs (Picnics!), and my lifeblood, my cord of life, my connection to the internet, is currently disconnected, so I'm typing this on Notepad because I have to write. I have to talk.
Bean and I got up and dressed this morning. I forced down a peanut butter South Beach Bar, which was gross, but I had to eat something. I actually felt a lot better after eating that, so I decided we'd go to the grocery store. When I got all dressed and ready and looked in the mirror at myself, I felt pretty good again. I look more like myself today. I put on my cute jeans, my little teal sweater and my brown velvet shoes with the bows, and my hair looked nice, and I thought, "A woman who looks young and vibrant like this... this woman can carry a baby. And do it well." And we went to the grocery store. On the way, both of my breasts did that electrical thing at the same time. I know now, this time around, that it feels quite a bit like milk letting down. Not as strong, but very similar. It's amazing that while my mind and soul are still trying to deny and fight the concept of a pregnancy, my body is all full-speed ahead, growing this baby, getting all the systems lined up again.
A body like that can carry a baby, too.
I shopped with Alex walking along beside me, my little buddy. Not in the cart, like she's been for so long, because recently she's begun to do very well at staying with me and "helping me shop," rather than running off so that I have to chase after her, or touching and grabbing things so that I'm constantly having to tell her to put things back, stop touching, etc. We had a good time. I bought a 3 lb. box of Cheez-Its. I ate SO MANY CHEEZ-ITS when I was carrying Bean. I'm surprised she wasn't born an orange square. Also bought some gingerale. I had no morning sickness at all with Bean. I have a scary feeling I may not be so lucky this time, although it's too soon to tell because the queasiness I feel right now may certainly be the bug, still. I don't WANT a very different pregnancy this time. I want a very similar one to Bean's, if only to give me some sense of "I've done this before it's no big deal I can manage it again." Obviously it'll be different circumstantially - I live in a new place, I already have one child, I'm not going to work every day. But physically, I'd love to FEEL the same as I did with Bean. That'd be good.
Good Heavens this music is GRATING on my nerves. I'm a basket case.
You know, before I got pregnant, I knew exactly what I'd name another baby if I had one. Now, the names I've picked out don't sound that great to me.
Still toying with Lorelai for a girl though. Still think that one's a goodie.
Rory for short. Alex and Rory. Not bad? Is it too silly to name your kid after both Gilmore Girls? At least they got cancelled, right? Few years time, no one will even remember.
And to think, I pictured myself ending up with a CAT named Lorelai. Just so I'd get to use the name.
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