So I Can Remember

I'm 16 weeks pregnant with little to no time to reflect or make special notes about what makes this pregnancy unique. I kept a pregnancy and first year baby book for both Oliver and Benjamin. It was more difficult with Benjamin to keep records, and it's even more difficult now. I want to show this little one that I paid attention and dreamed about meeting him or her, but mostly I want to remember.

Things are different, that's for sure. I'm less anxious about the pregnancy and delivery. I've only partially given up coffee. I don't drink it in the mornings, but I'll occasionally have a cup in the afternoon when exhaustion starts to take over. Reading blogs on Google Reader has taken the place of morning coffee. My wheels start turning and it gets my mind off of warm blankets and comfy pillows.

One funny quirk that has never happened to me is that I have to check the calendar every week to remember how far along I am. I hesitate when people ask me. Yesterday I told someone I was 20 weeks. Hahaha. It really is too bad that a woman's brain has to shrink during pregnancy. It's an "unavoidable biological phenomenon."

I can't remember if I was this emotional for my other pregnancies. But anything and everything will put a lump in my throat and bring tears to my eyes. I'm actually enjoying it because the last one and a half years I found it hard to cry at all, even when I wanted to. Maybe being the only girl in the house is toughening me up a bit, I don't know. But I started to miss being able to let it all out and then move on. When I don't cry, the emotions linger way too long and I just get grumpy.

I'm experiencing a strong desire to be domestic and my daily desires revolve around baking, keeping house and taking my kids to the library or park. My eyes sting with tears of envy when I hear about moms who work their butts off cleaning the house and preparing lunches. This is the hardest part about pregnancy because I do not have the energy for housework or cooking when I get home from work. I collapse on the couch and try to be enthusiastic for the kids. They're very sweet about it and are usually satisfied with cuddling in the hammock outside or reading books when I get home.

I'll just let another tear fall, roll my eyes at myself and half-laugh. Here's a dreamy (at least to me) poem I read during my morning ritual today from my favorite blog as of late, Mama:Monk.

Finding A Long Gray Hair

by Jane Kenyon

I scrub the long floorboards
in the kitchen, repeating
the motions of other women
who have lived in this house.
And when I find a long gray hair
floating in the pail,
I feel my life added to theirs.

Oh, and according to The Bump, little baby is the size of an avocado. That's cute.

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