Now that I'm on my fourth pregnancy, I'm finding it easy to look back and give each one a theme. Without any further introduction:
Levi was The Vomiting & Swelling Pregnancy. That was back before I knew just how easy it is for me to avoid "morning" sickness: a minimum of 80 grams of protein a day, spread out through the day but especially first thing in the morning and in the mid-afternoon, and I'm totally fine. That was also the summer I couldn't believe just how huge I could be. (That was, of course, before I was pregnant with Silas, when I found out that my carrying-Levi self could have passed for a runway model in comparison.)
Owen was The Easy Pregnancy. No sickness, no swelling, a much more manageable weight gain, and he was an easy baby to boot. He is, naturally, making up for all of his early easiness by his incredible two-year-old-ness.
Silas was The Hard Pregnancy. Or The Fear of Pre-ecclampsia Pregnancy. Or The Super-Fat Pregnancy. Or any number of other equally horrible things. One extremely random and very sad fact about Silas's gestation: I had to have my driver's licence renewed the week after he was born. Talk about lying about one's weight . . . and pictures one never wants anyone to see . . .
This fourth pregnancy shall hereafter be known as The Angry Pregnancy. I am generally a fairly even-keeled person (you know, for a girl and all), and when I'm not, I'm textbook passive-aggressive. So it has come as a great surprise (to myself) to find that I am getting very worked up about mostly inconsequential (but not always entirely) things. I mentioned this to my husband several weeks ago; he smirked in that way that only he can and admitted, "you are a little feistier than usual, I suppose." Truth be told, he's probably glad that I'm being more direct about how I'm feeling or what I'm thinking.
A silly example: I cut off 12-13 inches of my hair about six weeks ago. The reason? I flew into a rage over how heavy my ponytail was getting. Usually, I agonize for weeks over haircuts. That night, I announced at dinner that it was driving me nuts, and as soon as Silas was tucked into bed, I was at Great Clips, demanding, "take it all off!" It was a rash decision, and one I regret: now that we're into super-humid summer, I miss the ponytail dreadfully!
It's highly unlikely that anyone other than my husband would notice, as I've not suddenly become confrontational or anything (to anyone but him, I mean!). But when I'm calm, it's actually quite comical to realize I've been railing away on something that, 14 weeks ago, would have been, at most, a silent annoyance. Oh, how pregnancy hormones do funny things to a person . . .
Levi was The Vomiting & Swelling Pregnancy. That was back before I knew just how easy it is for me to avoid "morning" sickness: a minimum of 80 grams of protein a day, spread out through the day but especially first thing in the morning and in the mid-afternoon, and I'm totally fine. That was also the summer I couldn't believe just how huge I could be. (That was, of course, before I was pregnant with Silas, when I found out that my carrying-Levi self could have passed for a runway model in comparison.)
Owen was The Easy Pregnancy. No sickness, no swelling, a much more manageable weight gain, and he was an easy baby to boot. He is, naturally, making up for all of his early easiness by his incredible two-year-old-ness.
Silas was The Hard Pregnancy. Or The Fear of Pre-ecclampsia Pregnancy. Or The Super-Fat Pregnancy. Or any number of other equally horrible things. One extremely random and very sad fact about Silas's gestation: I had to have my driver's licence renewed the week after he was born. Talk about lying about one's weight . . . and pictures one never wants anyone to see . . .
This fourth pregnancy shall hereafter be known as The Angry Pregnancy. I am generally a fairly even-keeled person (you know, for a girl and all), and when I'm not, I'm textbook passive-aggressive. So it has come as a great surprise (to myself) to find that I am getting very worked up about mostly inconsequential (but not always entirely) things. I mentioned this to my husband several weeks ago; he smirked in that way that only he can and admitted, "you are a little feistier than usual, I suppose." Truth be told, he's probably glad that I'm being more direct about how I'm feeling or what I'm thinking.
A silly example: I cut off 12-13 inches of my hair about six weeks ago. The reason? I flew into a rage over how heavy my ponytail was getting. Usually, I agonize for weeks over haircuts. That night, I announced at dinner that it was driving me nuts, and as soon as Silas was tucked into bed, I was at Great Clips, demanding, "take it all off!" It was a rash decision, and one I regret: now that we're into super-humid summer, I miss the ponytail dreadfully!
It's highly unlikely that anyone other than my husband would notice, as I've not suddenly become confrontational or anything (to anyone but him, I mean!). But when I'm calm, it's actually quite comical to realize I've been railing away on something that, 14 weeks ago, would have been, at most, a silent annoyance. Oh, how pregnancy hormones do funny things to a person . . .
Christy - First, I'm envious of your 4 pregnancies. Had I been able, I would have had a half dozen, but God always has the plan correct, doesn't he?
ReplyDeleteSecond I so admire your transparency and your wit. Lucky for you you only "worked up" during this pregnancy. I find myself always worked up and wish it weren't so. I try to give myself an 'out' by saying "some of us our John the Baptist personalities and some of us John the Disciple" Guess which one I am.
Thanks for sharing your talent, creativity, honesty and journey with us all!
God absolutely has the plan correct, yes! Sometimes it's just hard to agree with him . . .
ReplyDeleteThat's a great comparison, between the Johns. I'll have to keep that in mind. Don't sell yourself short -- you'll change the world with your determination! Or at least your little part of the world. ;)