So, as the subject title indicates, I am officially with child. Four months and two weeks, to be exact.
I'm so excited. No, really. I can't wait to get this effing parasite out of me so my body can return to normal. Don't get me wrong; I already love the kid. But I'm sure I will enjoy him (or her) much more once it's on the outside. The body changes fucking suck. I went from spending the first month on my ass to spazzing out over lint traps and empty Miracle Whip jars. I can't have alcohol, coffee, Pepsi, hookers, or blow. Strange people now feel free to touch me without invitation or permission. And EVERYBODY is a fucking expert. I cannot go a day without receiving some bit of unsolicited advice (with 70% of it coming from my mother). So the only two things I'm really getting out of this deal are the kid and remarkably shiny hair.
Oh, and then there's the whole "high risk" thing, as my blood type and uterine fibroids make me a prime candidate for complications. And today I learned that I'm hypertensive. My OB told me to lay off the salt and stop stressing. No salt? No problem. Stop stressing? Problem.
Prenatal yoga DOES help, though.
In the meantime, I'm doing all the responsible mommy stuff, like researching birthing centers, midwives, and doulas. I'm reading out loud (political blogs, mostly) to baby, and talking to him/her. I'm checking out daycares and preschools. I'm buying child development books. We've already picked out the names. I am officially consumed with all things baby.
Of course, I can do without the preggers jokes. And the friends gleefully rubbing in the fact that I can't drink while downing cocktails. And monitoring everything that goes in my mouth. Hell, I could do without a lot of shit but it would be too long to list here, and I do have to sleep eventually.
But when the kid gets here, it will have all been worth it. At least that's what they tell me.