This whole pregnancy thing comes with a plethora of unimpressive side effects. As my body changes, I’ve been stricken with things like nausea, heartburn, fatigue and general tenderness and malaise – all of which I’ve read up on, or been told about, so none have been any great surprise.
Amidst all of the bleh, there has been one wonderful and unexpected condition that I’ve never heard of, or seen referenced in any of the pregnancy articles or literature I’ve come across thus far:
I am having the most intense sex of my life.
Which is saying a lot; the boy and I have always done well horizontally. Our usual bedroom MO is to make a session last for as many orgasms as he can get out of me. These days, all he has to do is, uh, put the key in the ignition to get me to where I need to go. I simply cannot handle all the goodness. It’s ridiculous – yet strangely fantastic all the same.
The other night, I teased him that I’m training him to become a wham, bam, thank-you-ma’am kind of guy.
“Never,” he scoffed. “But I am the guy who will always give you exactly what you need.”
I had to laugh. He’s so cocky.
No pun intended.
Lately, it’s favourite letter of the alphabet.
Don’t get too attached to that bump, lady…That ain’t yer baby!
I met Dr. Freedman today.
I really had no pre-conceptions of what she looked like, however I found myself surprised that she was young. Mid-40s, tops. Tall. Brunette. Plain – but pretty. She has a straightforward manner that I like. I can tell she’s not a candy-coater, and delivers the news you need to hear, as you need to hear it.
I learned this as she had me lie back on the examination table so she could feel my uterus. Starting with my left side, she immediately stopped and made a face. “That doesn’t feel right,” she said. “Do you have time today to go for an ultrasound?”
“Sure,” I replied. She waved her hand, indicating that I could sit up. “What’s wrong?”
“Well, I wouldn’t say anything is ‘wrong’ until I get more evidence, but have you noticed the firm lump on the left side of your abdomen?”
“Yes.” I put my hand over the spot as I answered. “I just thought it was the baby.” Read more ›
And toes. And eyes. And legs…Oops. Guess it’s a bit late for that last one, innit?
Even though I’m coming up to the 12-week mark, the boy and I have decided that I’m not going to be making a formal/public announcement about our impending bean on any social media platform – although he has
allowed agreed to letting me blog about it. He thinks it’s a good way for me to chronicle this pregnancy and work out any feelings/issues I may have through my writing.
We still haven’t told his family (we will this coming weekend), and I’ve been telling people as I see them. I had lunch with my friend Alex today, and she was super-excited (and surprised) when I showed up with a little extra cargo. Tomorrow I’m meeting with my friend Naki, and I guess she’ll learn then, too.
It’s not that I’m not at all excited myself, it’s just…I dunno. I feel all right, and I want to believe that everything is all right, but I really hope this little one is okay. I worry (Advanced Maternal Age and all, don’tcha know) that it won’t. I see Dr. Freedman this Friday, and while I don’t have any questions for her per se, I’ve no doubt that a visit with her will help put my mind at ease.
Just what the doctor ordered, as they say.
The weather this weekend was gorgeous; the image illustrates my mood.
a big turnout…
Saturday was Donte’s funeral. It was a massive turnout. Everyone was there. I t was supposed to start at 10; I got there early and could barely find a place to sit. By the time the service started, it was standing-room only. People were still coming after it began, and they were forced to stand outside. It was a beautiful service and a beautiful day. It was both the loveliest and saddest thing I’ve ever been to in my life. Short sentences. What more can I say?
…and a belly to match
I thought I was slick wearing a loose, blousy top to disguise the pregnancy. Black is supposed to be slimming, right? Boy, was I wrong. All weekend my big belly was big news. Read more ›
There are exceptions to every rule though, right?
I told my mother tonight.
We were sitting across from each other at the kitchen table having a good girl-talk gab session. We haven’t had one of those in a while. We were talking about Donte’s death and the funeral Saturday. Mum mentioned that while it was sad, it was still nice that Auntie Thelma still had four other grandchildren to love.
“And I don’t have any,” she said, half-jokingly.
I figured that was as good a time as any to drop my bomb.
“Can I tell you something?” I asked. She nodded, and I could tell she hadn’t the slightest inkling of what I was about to say. Read more ›