blueberry update - week 14

So, I'm happily traipsing into trimester #2. Not that I have a ton to complain about; I don't suffer much in the first trimester, other than feeling so fatigued I can't lift my toothbrush.

(Oh, and feeling really fat. But that's all a part of the fun, right? HA. HA. HA.)

But this is the happy period... the once described "thickening waist" (thank you babycenter.com, for that flattering and oh-so-accurate description) finally becomes a bump that might be recognizable as a growing belly-baby. You can bust out (whoa, no pun intended there, seriously; but if you saw my boobs right now you would say 'YEAH RIGHT, SALLY, YOU TOTALLY MEANT THAT PUN BECAUSE YOUR BOOBS ARE HUGE'. They are! They are! It makes me so happy - as long as no one's touching them. OUCH.) Anyway... you can 'bust out' your maternity clothes and feel like your wardrobe expanded... of course, a month later, you realize that your wardrobe has actually become two pairs of ugly pants and five sweaters that you rotate through - one for each day of the week. But the first time you pull out the crate of old maternity clothes is like going garage-sale-ing in your own closet! ...What else? Oh, sooner or later we'll feel some little kicks and and we get to see little pics of the blueberry and it all becomes more real!

Yes... more REAL..... hmmm.. Along with trimester #2 you have to face the fact that LIFE IS GOING TO CHANGE. AGAIN. A LOT. There's no pretending anymore that you're exhausted because Andy NEVER HANGS UP HIS WET TOWEL AFTER HIS SHOWER. NEVER! IT'S AMAZING! And then he lays it - with some care, actually - on our bed. For the rest of the day. Until later when I wander in there and hang it on the rack in the bathroom, usually when I'm climbing into bed, and there's a nice big wet spot on the bed. Awesome.

(Now, if Andy were writing this post, he would write about the fact that I have piles of crap everywhere. I do. Everywhere. I am a piler. BUT WHATEVER. I'M THE ONE WRITING THIS.)

ANYWAY. So, what I really wanted to write about on this post was how awesome hormones are. I am totally digging this new 'say it like it is' sally that comes out. Normally, she only shows her face when I'm PMS'ing. But being pregnant is like PMS'ING ALL THE FRIGGING TIME.

Why, you ask, do I like it!?! Because... and I hate for this to sound cheesy or corny or whatever, but this is exactly how I feel: When I'm PMS I feel connected more to humanity. None of this people-pleasing crap; none of this internal censor that is really really good at its job; instead you get a whole lot of immediate reactions and truth. That's mostly a good thing. Mostly.

I watched this ted talk the other day - it's an amazing story. Once you get past her odd voice and mannerisms - which you will, I promise - you can't help but be taken by her story, and her passion.

She talks about her experience having a stroke. And, as a brain scientist who studied strokes, she had particular insight into what was going on inside herself AS it was happening. Wow.

Anyway, she describes herself in the stroke as living purely, and only, in her right brain. No left brain - logic or language - to get in the way or put meaning or definition on anything. She just experienced life as if she were a part of everyone else. A powerful WE. She calls it "la-la land." And for some strange reason when she described that it reminded me of those glimpses I get when I'm PMS... or, as it were, pregnant. It is something that takes you on this ride, and that you can't (and mostly shouldn't) control. And on this ride you get to experience the very best of life - but you also feel along with the 'worst' of what you see and experience around you, as if it were a part of you, too - happening to you - as if we were all one great big WE.

On this ride I never know where it will take me. Sometimes it's tears, sometimes uncontrollable laughter. Long periods of dazed silences. And sharp anger. Did I mention the sharp anger? Yes, there's the "fiesty" side of me that makes itself known quite readily these days... It's all the feelings that make us these incredible little beings whose stories and experiences are not that much different from anybody else's.

I have no idea if this sounds like crazy gobledygook or not. I don't really care. BOO YA!

(Anybody feeling badly for Andy right about now? Yeah. Go ahead and do that, just don't tell me about it. That will likely piss me off.)