I had a check-up today for me and baby, and I'm happy to report all is well and good for both of us. The scale, on the other hand, threw me for a bit of a loop, as I've now gained about 13 pounds this pregnancy and, um, a nice, big chunk of those pounds were put on this past month. Now I know this is no time to start counting calories, but I think it's time for me to be a tad more conscious of what I'm stuffing into my mouth and stomach. Perhaps fewer Almond Joys and more salads?
I do go back Monday for my glucose test, which I'm not really dreading even though I know I should. I have to be at the office for an hour, so I'm either going to finally beat my high score in BrickBreaker, or I'll irritate all the lab techs by continuing to read "Charlotte's Web" aloud to the baby.
One lovely little 26-week development I wasn't really expecting, though, is the onset of acid reflux. Wow, that's a total buzzkill, isn't it? If you can't agree with me because you've never experienced it yourself THEN DO I ENVY YOU LIKE YOU WOULDN'T BELIEVE. I can't eat anything these days without remembering exactly what I consumed for hours afterwards because it is burning the back of my throat. I like pizza more than the average girl, don't get me wrong, but I don't necessarily like to taste pizza four hours after I eat it for lunch as I'm watching Oprah.
Oh, pregnancy. It's beautiful, miraculous and, quite frankly, just plain gross.
Since I'm gaining weight (at such an impressive speed!) and am officially knocking things off desks and counters with nothing more than my stomach, I have had to expand (ha) my wardrobe over the last few weeks. Our budget write-up at the end of the month is going to have more Old Navy totals than I originally thought it would, but I can't very well walk around naked or exposing my belly in a regular shirt. I suppose I could—I mean I did for our belly shoot—but even those "artsy" and deliberate shots and poses earned a comment that said something along the lines of, It may be time for a maternity shirt. You can just imagine what the nice people in our local grocery store are thinking. So, maternity clothes, I have succumbed. Time and a place for everything, right?
I'm still not nesting in the way neither Mike nor I would prefer, meaning the laundry is still not getting done and our pots are still going unused, but I have become obsessed with taking pictures of my shoes each morning! Sorry, kiddo, your nursery is still in shambles but your mama did manage to wear heels on Election Day!
So, we're at 26 weeks, and Mike (finally!) felt an undeniable, couldn't-argue-with-it kick the other night. Our son likes to move and flop and kick on a pretty regular basis, but he doesn't seem interested in performing for anyone other than his mother, and I understand, kiddo, you're no one's monkey. To think you wouldn't be just a wee bit stubborn with all those genes of your father's swimming around in you was completely my mistake. Just between you and me, though, there are like a million other qualities of his I hope you get, as well. Hope you're well in there.
