It dawned on me the other day that I am 30 weeks pregnant. THIRTY WEEKS. That's like, third trimester territory. Which actually means I hit the third trimester a good two weeks ago. Without even realizing it.
People told me the second pregnancy was different. They were busy, they weren't as concerned, their pregnancy books sat and collected dust. I didn't believe them. I was always astonished when I would ask how far along my friends were and they would have to stop and think about it. I'm far too organized. That would never be me.
Reality check. That is now TOTALLY me.
The first time around, one of the highlights of my day was checking my pregnancy app every day to check in on their development and my to-dos. One of the highlights of my week was on Thursdays, when I hit another week of being pregnant, and I would get to read more about their development. (I am apparently super boring and lame.) I probably could have told people down to the day how far along I was: "24 weeks and 3 days"...though that may have been aided and abetted by the fact that I had 8 hojillion doctors appointments and ultrasounds, all based on how many weeks/days along I was. Pregnancy books, classes, planning and decorating the nursery...having a baby (well, two) was always at the top of my mind.
This time I have to think to even remember what day adds another week to my pregnancy, (Saturdays), much less how far along I am. (Though that may be aided and abetted by not only having two toddlers around, but also the craziness that has been our life lately with moving and Tyson being gone, never mind being pregnant.) I can't tell you the last time I cracked open What to Expect or even bothered to glance at my pregnancy app. I can still forget about being pregnant, sometimes, until a walk past a mirror or my reflection in a window startles me. I used to countdown to each doctor's appointment or ultrasound, just waiting to be reassured that they were both developing okay. This time I hardly even remember when my next doctors appointment is, and the kicks, jabs, and rolls that I feel all day long are more than enough to confirm that baby is doing just fine.
In some ways, this is very, very good. By the time I was 30 weeks with twins, I was already measuring over 40 weeks (aka full term for a single pregnancy). I don't even want to recall what my weight gain was by this point. I was so uncomfortable from December onward. This time, I feel downright petite. It's still sort of easy for me to forget. And while I'm type A enough that I absolutely want the nursery completed before baby arrives (January's project!), I also know that we have everything necessary to get us started. The blankets, the pack and play that they will sleep in for the first few months in our room anyway, plenty of sleepers, some diapers.
Two years ago about this time. You don't even want to know how swollen my legs and ankles were by that point. Just like the Grinch's, they grew at least three sizes...
vs. today. Let me tell you, there is NO COMPARISON. And I'm even two weeks further along this time than I was with the twins. Also, these are probably the only photos I've taken of my "bump" this entire pregnancy. Sorry, baby #3.
