Everyone, it seems, is obsessed with pregnancy. There are ten thousand kazillion websites (that's an accurate number) on the subject matter alone. When you're pregnant, everyone wants to talk about your pregnancy and touch your belly, while offering you unsolicited advice. When celebs are pregnant, we trash talk their wardrobe choices and analyze their bodies under a microscope (which enrages me).
Despite the fact that I consider myself a feminist, I can't bring myself to grow a full-on '70s bush. I just can't do it.
I'm sorry. I guess I'm part of "that" generation. The generation that just can't stand pubic hair. Maybe I've been brainwashed by the media? Maybe I'm not a very good feminist? (Question: is body hair a pre-requisite for feminism? Probably not, but it seems like all the good ones have pit hair, at least . . . )
I'm 35 days away from my due date, and I couldn't be more excited. I cannot wait to meet this little girl or boy!!! I keep looking back at newborn pictures of Cole and my heart leaps with excitement—"We're going to have another one of these! Eeek!"
If you've been following my blog, you might remember earlier in my pregnancy I wrote a post about the pros of Midwives vs the pros of Doctors. At the time, I had decided to go with a midwife (with my son, we had an OB) and I was very excited about my decision, because I had heard so many great things about midwives.
So, I don't want to say that I'm cheap, but when it comes to spending money—I don't really like to. Well, that's not entirely true. I do like spending money, I'd just prefer if it wasn't mine. Y'know what I'm saying?
Therefore, when it comes to finding clothes that will fit me during pregnancy, I don't want to want to fork over a lot of Sir Robert Bordens. Gah. Why are we SO UNCOOL as Canadians? "Fork over a lot of Benjamins" sounds wwwaaaayyyy better.
I am growing a human inside of me, which requires a lot of work and energy. I still get up 1-3 times per night with my toddler. I work a full-time job. I sometimes make dinner (my husband or parents usually do.) I sometimes clean my house (again, it's a collaborative group effort: a perk of having your parents live in the same house). Regardless, the point I'm trying to make is that I'm tired.
Tomorrow morning at 9am I'm having my 20 week anatomy ultrasound. The ultrasound tech will be counting all the fingers, all the toes, (and a bunch of other important stuff), and then will come the question that many parents agonize over...
You have so many new things to learn! Your head is spinning! Your hormones are raging! There are so many books to read, websites to visit, and everyone has an opinion on everything.
You wish you could just crawl into a hole and then 9 months later (actually 10, surprise!) emerge with cute pink cooing baby. But no. No, no no no no. There is a lot of crap in between, and you'll need to learn it all (no you don't).
Last weekend, my husband and I embarked on a four-day and three-night getaway to Boston.
We used our flight credits from our botched vacation in July, and decided to take some time "just for us" before baby #2 arrives in March. I believe the trendy term for this trip is a "babymoon."
