Yesterday I hit the lovely 13 weeks pregnant mark, and by just about any pregnancy calendar, that puts me in the second trimester. And that puts baby at the size of a peach or a medium-sized shrimp, about 3 inches long from head to little rump.
How do I feel?
Lately, thankful. So far this pregnancy has been a breeze, and I am grateful. My spirituality is a kind of unique thing in that I don’t believe in a supreme being, so sometimes when I say I’m grateful I wonder who I’m saying it to. Grateful to my body? The universe? This baby? I think I’m grateful to all of these things, just like when I eat I’m grateful to and thankful for the food itself that gave up its life for me, the soil it grew in, the sun that shone on it, the water that it drank from, the person who picked it, and all those other steps along the way that brought it to my table. The list could go on for a while.
So there’s my tangent on what being grateful and thankful means to me, which I didn’t mean to go off on but there you have it. And I’m it.
I have felt so good. I am truly enjoying being pregnant. My belly is starting to get fuller, which I like. I want it to be even more so. Right now it’s just that, “have you put on a few in the midsection or what?” kind of look going on. I am less tired than I was in the first trimester, although I’m still valuing my sleep and usually go to bed by ten every night for a solid nine hours of sleep.
My husband is the sweetest, most understanding person I have ever met. He not only tolerates but embraces my weekly crying meltdowns, whether they’re over the AT&T inauguration commercial or over the fact that he’s not ready to talk baby furniture yet — although he will talk baby and raising baby all day long.
We’re in a good place emotionally, financially, physically, spiritually, mentally…I feel really good. I hope baby is feeling good in my belly, too.