The (Dreaded) Growing "bump"

It's a new thing this idea of 'the bump' and showing it off. Perhaps we have the Hollywood moms to thank for this advent of pregnancy into the public space - that and the tendy clothes a la Catherine Zeta-Jones signing at the Oscars in her 9th month, maternal breasts about to pop out of her evening gown - not that Hollywood does much for us after delivery. Then they become the antithesis to the average mother with their personal chefs and trainers. But as I've been telling myself for the last few weeks, I'm not thinking about AFTER yet. Just the now.

And now, in month five, is when everyone is clamoring for the bump. I put a photo on Facebook last week just to pacify people (including my brother) who want to see this transformation. I wish I could say it was all rosy cheeks and glowing eyes but really it's shirts that don't fit and pants that don't zip up. Not thrilling in the least.

The advent of the bump on your body is reminder though; as it grows literally you're forced to reckon with this thing that is about to happen to you. When it's small, during the first three months you don't have to really face the ways your life is changing. Particularly if you aren't sick, as I wasn't, it's easy to pretend nothing has changed.

This is a dangerous trap, particularly at work, because people just push for more and as they did before. Now that I'm in the second trimester, staying up until 11pm is again possible. Having the sense to take a breath before putting someone on full blast for idiocy, is not. I have to train myself for pregnancy brain: For the forgetting (which I thought stemmed from vomitting or lack of sleep but can just start for no reason other than your resources are being used elsewhere), for the lack of patience, for the utter lack of urgency which has never affected me before in my life.

I've become that thing I don't understand: a procrastionator. On Saturday I didn't change out of my nightgown until 2pm. For no reason other than I really liked the book I was reading.

Other changes, besides those on my body, are happening as well. My husband, who never once answered the phone when I called 6 different times during the course of a day that I had been involved in a car accident, now drives over to the office if he can't get ahold of me. He gives footrubs on a daily instead of intermittent basis. He pokes me in the neck if I'm sleeping on my stomach; he tells on me to the doctor if I'm not doing something I should (like remember to take the vitamins).

All of these small things are nothing compared to what is to come I know. I'm so glad that nature gives us this time to prepare.

When I Sit Down for a Length of Time

Strangely, it hurts. I think this child may have already bruised my tailbone with it's increasing presence in the home that is my uterus.

But getting rounder means the news is readily shared - which has another nice side effect - excuses people can't dodge or really dispute.

As in, even though it's 9 p.m., I'm going to bed.

And even though it's the middle of the day, I will yell at someone who is being stupid.

Opps... and even though I didn't really, I'll say I forgot to uncheck the forward box because of my diminished brain.

For the next five months I expect to get as much mileage as I can out of the current situation. In return, my stomach is bulging and my breasts are the size of watermelons. Fair enough I say.