So the child is getting big enough now that she isn’t moving around as much. It is bizarre though, to feel the child moving, see my belly moving with a person in there. I do wish to meet her.
With the second child, it seems that this child isn’t nearly as real to anyone.
I have a new nurse practicioner/midwife as of about a month ago and I have no idea when I am supposed to see her, how often. I passed my test, I don’t have gestational diabetes.
I am eating whatever I want, though honestly, I am not overly hungry, though sweets have a new appeal. I have been considering making pull apart sticky buns, a treat that never held much interest before because of how much I really didn’t need it.
She is at about 4 pounds, according to online estimates.
Sleep is the only truly troublesome time of the day, as it comes in fits and starts. Muscles doing the wrong thing, insatiable thirst, limbs going numb, wondering if I am sleeping wrong and alternately deciding that I am not going to worry, not to mention the frequent nocturnal trips to the restroom. Not to mention my size. Not working makes all this bearable.
It is surreal to imagine the size of this tiny little person in my arms. A new person in my life. I wonder if she will sleep like her sister. I wonder if she will be all healthy. I imagine all the things that were new last time will be familiar this time, I will know more what to do.
I realized as J and I were on a date tonight that this anticipation was not something I would ever feel again, since this will be our last kid. I realized also and wanted to note it, write it somewhere and make it known: these are happy days.