Thoughts during my 10th week of pregnancy:
What the heck is a kumquat?
Apparently that’s how big my baby is in the tenth week. Having googled kumquats, they look to be about the size of a grape tomato. Another source said the baby was the size of a prune.
Will I EVER remember to faithfully slather myself with lotion? How do women who don’t want stretch marks actually remember to do this every day?
I’ve got the lotion on the counter. Sometimes I remember; sometimes I don’t. I know that people say not everyone gets stretch marks. Well, I’m not one of those people… ’cause I’ve already got them from the rapid weight gain I had in my late teens.
Maybe I’ll wait until it’s more obvious that I’m pregnant to show people my belly.
One of my clients this week nearly fell out of her chair as she doubled over in laughter at my 10-week belly bump. To me, there’s a difference. That puffy bulge didn’t used to be there. To her, that’s everyone else’s version of a flat stomach. In fact, I showed one of my coworkers and she insisted, “That’s nothing. You’re eating a smoothie. That’s just breakfast.”
Am I going to find out the gender? Hell, yes, I’m gonna find out the gender!
Square Piece likes information. The more information the better. From a Square Piece perspective, the more I know, the more I can plan / organize / scheme / daydream / educate / instruct / prepare. From a Suzy perspective, once I know the gender, I feel like I’ll be able to connect with my baby more. No longer will my baby be an it; it’ll be a he or a she. And once it’s a definite he or she, then it’ll be hard to deny that there’s a real, little person growing inside of me. I can’t wait to refer to my baby by his or her gender. The more connected I feel with this baby, the more this will be about the baby (and less about me).
Major food of the week: tomato and cheese sandwiches, not toasted.
While, yes, I might have eaten five of them in 24 hours, that’s allllllllll I ate for those 24 hours.
Then there was church…
Pregnant Square Piece reached a new level of brazenness. Listen, the baby neeeeeded cucumber and cream cheese sushi for breakfast on Sunday. The baby also needed an iced chai tea latte. So I had to run to Wegmans, discover that they had yet to put out my preferred sushi, reach despair and then realize that the kind man behind the counter would make it on the spot. Then I had to go across the street to Target, where they have a Starbucks, and breathe through my mouth (because the coffee smell gets to me these days) while placing my order there. By the time I had baby’s breakfast, it was time to get to church. Yes. Yes, I brought it all into the auditorium. (Momma, don’t worry, I was tucked away on the far side. I don’t think anyone saw me.)
For the fellow worshippers who were seated all around me, my conversation went a little something like this:
“You know I’m pregnant, right? I’m going to be eating sushi. I mean, our church is two h.o.u.r.s long. I get hungry when I’m not pregnant! I’m sorry, you might smell it. I might make some noise. I will be using chopsticks.”
They were all more than gracious.
All in all it’s been a successful week as I’ve been able to incorporate colorful, familiar foods back into my diet (lettuce without dressing, broccoli, pineapple, melon…!).
People are so funny, the way they fall over themselves gushing and rejoicing on my behalf. It’s so daggone sweet!
Last night Brian and I pulled away from the church parking lot as a gaggle of women waved and cheered and continued to congratulate me. (I picture them shaking hankies at me, even though there were no hankies.) Has my reaction to news of a pregnancy ever been disappointing to a woman? Am I too calm? It almost seems as though some women have just been waiting for the day when I’d finally say, “I’m pregnant.”
Have they hoped for me specifically to be a mother? Or are they like this whenever they hear news of any baby being born into the world? Am I deficient in emotion? How come I don’t jump up and down when other people tell me they’re pregnant? It can’t be a once-you’re-a-mother thing, ’cause plenty of non-mothers have been turning cartwheels, too. … Personality differences? We’ve just spent our time investing importance into different areas of life? … Once I’m a mom, will I skip and leap over the news of every new baby or will it be certain people’s babies? …