The two most obvious are the lovers and the haters. It’s rather self explanatory, but I’ll spell it out anyways…
The Preggo lovers are the ones everyone seems to roll their eyes at. They’d rather be pregnant than not. They tend to have little to no sickness and manage to feel increasingly beautiful as time goes on. Even those who do suffer your normal preggo aches and pains sort of bypass the negative reaction to it and just spill out pure positivity.
The Preggo haters are the opposite. Pregnancy is a means to an end. They hate the changes their bodies goes through. They may be sick or just uncomfortable, or they may simply just dislike the fact that the self they know becomes a stranger to them.
If you’re one or the other, it’s hard to believe/comprehend that not everyone has that experience. Just like loving/hating a particular book or film, the idea that your intense feelings aren’t shared by everyone is slightly strange. You have such strong feelings. How can they be so completely different from someone else’s?
After covering those two types of Preggos, I said to LC that I didn’t really feel like either of those.
Don’t get me wrong, overall this pregnancy has been a breeze. But that doesn’t mean that I’d like to be pregnant always. If there was another way to cook up the Spawn quickly and safely, I’d probably take it. Still, I’m not angry about being pregnant either. The no periods are nice, and I can’t really complain about no one looking at me funny if I take a second serving of dinner. It’s all just good. Not the best time of my life. Certainly not the worst.
LC admitted that both I and one of her other longtime friends sort of fall into a Preggo version 2.5 or 3.0.
I think 3.0 would more indifferent. Pregnancy would be “fine.” Maybe a few ups and downs but generally just neutral feelings. I’m more in the line of 2.5. I am fairly neutral, in that I would much rather have Spawn outside than in (although I absolutely want Spawn to finish cooking first). If there was a reasonable, logical way to grow my child while still having completely control of my body, I’d obviously choose that route. Still, I have it fairly easy. And I definitely don’t hate any of this process.
Of course, that may change. I’m 25 weeks and 2 days today, which by most accounts puts me 2 weeks and 5 days from being in my third trimester. Folks, we’re rounding the far turn. (It’s still really mind boggling to me. And while we’re on the subject of mind boggling things, Christmas is 6 weeks away. Yes, you’re welcome. Go run out and do some shopping with me.)
In 2 weeks I go in for my Glucose Challenge Screen/Test. M1 actually offered it as an option, which surprised me, but I am always pro-tests. Of course if I fail it, and have to go in for the actual diagnostic test and end up diagnosed with Gestational Diabetes…well, I may feel differently about the whole thing. But I’d rather have a positive test and know how to manage it, then not have the test and have a 10+ pound baby. (Sorry Spawn, too big!)
Unless something unexpected happens or I go late, it seems like I’m done with tests/ultrasounds after the Glucose stuff. I’m sure there’s still some blood work here and there, but it’s weird to think that more or less, Spawn just gets to cook into an outside the body ready tiny human now.
This weekend I went to the Royal Winter Fair to watch some show jumping with my fellow rider EW. She is also the first person to gift Spawn with clothes. Because I find it both very cute and rather appropriate, I will share it with you now:
While unpacking all of our fiction books, I came to realize how completely eclectic MFH and I are as readers (and watchers, and listeners, really). There are equal parts serious and decidedly not so serious fiction. As much Star Wars and DragonLance as there is Shakespeare and Austen. We’re still folding the mass markets in with the rest, but I’ll provide a photo when it’s all done. (Of course, none of this could be possible without the assistance of CR, who was kind enough to grab our four new Billy Bookcases from Ikea and then deliver them to us.)
I love the idea of continuing our eclectic life. Of raising a new, equally eclectic little person. Someone who can see the awesome value of both Shakespeare and Star Wars (Or even Shakespearean Star Wars, as the case may be…). Someone who “Iambic pentameter” is as familiar a phrase as “Rest well and dream of large women.”
But if Spawn somehow grows up to be someone who recognizes neither, I think I’ll still be pretty damn happy. Come what may, I’m starting to feel like I am more than ready…