Me at 23 weeks pregnant. Next week I will be 24 weeks pregnant. 24/4 = 6… that means I’ll be 6 MONTHS PREGNANT!!!
Getting a grip and moving right along…
I had a bit of a meltdown on Saturday. I blame it on technology.
As you know, John and I went to Vegas for a little babycation. I decided I didn’t want to go through the scanners at the airport, which means I got to meet a bunch of handsy airport security women. Everyone was super professional and super sweet… and had lots of stories for me.
The first woman who laid her hands on me was adorable. I want her to babysit someday. And come over for a pint.
Not on the same day.
She started patting me here and there, checking my arms, the cuffs of my shirt, around the boob area (clearly the most obvious place to hide machetes and such things) and then she bent down and patted my belly: “Hello baby! Hellooo! Hello! Hello!!!! Helloo baaay-byyy!!!” And then she checked the waist of my jeans and probably my legs… I can’t remember because that was the first time a stranger cooed to my midsection in public. “Is this your first? Oooh, it’s so exciting!”
Loved her. She did not contribute to my meltdown.
Next I met a woman who is the mother of three.
Mom of 3: How far along?
Me: 5 1/2 months.
Mom of 3: No you are NOT.
Me: (totally intimidated because I am in an airport and she is wearing GLOVES) Uh, yes… I am?
Mom of 3: There is nothing there! No bump at all! When I was 3 months pregnant I was bigger than you are now! You can’t be 5 1/2 months already!
Me: No really (pulling my shirt against my belly and standing profile for the full effect). See? I am… really…
At this point, I’m not going to lie. I was enjoying all the, “but I can’t even tell you’re pregnant!” feedback. I definitely didn’t want to hear about how huge I was, so this was refreshing input.
But then I got a stupid autoemail from one of those sites that tells you the kind of things you should expect at various points in your pregnancy. It said something like, “At 23 weeks you are feeling like you don’t just have a baby in your belly, you have a boxer who is kicking you in the ribs!” But my baby isn’t kicking me in the ribs. As far as I can tell my baby is no where near my ribs and although I can feel the bambino moving around and giving me little kicks, I certainly don’t feel like my insides are getting a beating.
That email got caught in my brain and it started swirling around and around… When was the last time I felt the baby kick? Is there as much movement today as there was yesterday? Did I do something wrong? Was the flight harmful? I ate some fruit that tasted funny, did that hurt the baby? Maybe the baby isn’t growing enough? Is it normal that my ribs aren’t bruised from Beckham-like fetal jabs? PLEASE BABY, KICK ME TIL I’M GASPING FOR BREATH AND I HAVE LOST ALL BLADDER CONTROL!!!
Fortunately I was with my mother when I started to blubber. One minute we’re talking about the joys of maternity pants and then next I’m crying in a panic because I’m afraid I’m not the right size for 5 1/2 months and my internal organs haven’t been stomped to mush by baby toes. Mom helped to reassure me that everything was FINE and for the rest of the day I paid special attention to all the little taps I was feeling.
AND I had my midwife appointment yesterday and everything is peachy-keen. My belly is the “right” size, heart rate is strong and lovely… it’s all good.
So take THAT stupid email.
Now that I have been reassured that things are moving along nicely I welcome being squeezed by well meaning security women. As long as we’re in an airport. At the security check point place. And they only squeeze at appropriate times.
More belly bump pics:
22 weeks pregnant (grand canyon edition)