Greta is 21 months-old. She continues to light up my life countless times a day. She's got a sense of humor, and loves to love, and she loves telling us that the dog goes, "woof," and showing us where her nose and other body parts are located. She's obsessed with reading books. And she enjoys being outside, and she's infatuated with the older neighborhood children. She thinks she's one of the big girls, and maybe she IS almost two years old, but in my heart, and in my mind, she is still my baby. I'm slowly working on accepting the reality that she's becoming a little girl.
I'm 20 weeks pregnant with a little boy. I've recently started to feel him move, making the pregnancy a little more real although still not completely. I'm still in shock, and I'm not kidding you -- I still have the first pregnancy test sitting on the shelf above my toliet. Don't worry -- I WILL NOT scrapbook it. I just can't bring myself to throw it away right now, because I still am shocked that I'm pregnant. This baby is so very wanted but the pregnancy was a surprise, and I don't think it will be completely real until I'm holding a little baby boy in my arms. Wow.
This pregnancy is much like my pregnancy with Greta. In fact, they're just a few weeks apart from the other, so all my maternity clothes are the same season and I'm able to compare my stats (weight gain, etc.) easily to those from a couple years ago. So far, I've gained two pounds, and my blood pressure has remained controlled. This does not calm me, however, from the reality that it could still go bad. At this point in my pregnancy with Greta, my blood pressure was still fine.
I'm nervous about another premature baby but not to the point that I obsess about it. I religiously take my medicine, and I'm trying to eat well, rest often and exercise a bit, too. I'm doing what I can. I think I'm more anxious about having two children, just two years apart from one another, than I am about the imminent birth little baby boy. Holy shit.
This pregnancy is much like my pregnancy with Greta. In fact, they're just a few weeks apart from the other, so all my maternity clothes are the same season and I'm able to compare my stats (weight gain, etc.) easily to those from a couple years ago. So far, I've gained two pounds, and my blood pressure has remained controlled. This does not calm me, however, from the reality that it could still go bad. At this point in my pregnancy with Greta, my blood pressure was still fine. I'm nervous about another premature baby but not to the point that I obsess about it. I religiously take my medicine, and I'm trying to eat well, rest often and exercise a bit, too. I'm doing what I can. I think I'm more anxious about having two children, just two years apart from one another, than I am about the imminent birth little baby boy. Holy shit.
I'm nesting a lot, I guess. Organizing closets, purging clothes and anything not used in the past two years. I've been spending a lot of time and energy emptying my scrapbook room to make way for the nursery. I've been a little over-focused on this nesting deal, I think -- I've got friends calling me to see if I'm okay, if I'm still alive, and yes, I am. I'm just a little hard-core with things right now. It's driven by my fear of another forced bedrest and not being able to complete things. I wasn't ready preparing Greta's room, clothing, car seat, etc., and while I know she and we survived just fine, I just feel better getting my ducks in a row.
In addition to nesting, I sleep a lot. Or I try to. I sleep like crap at night, often waking at random hours (2:30 a.m. or so) wide awake. I get up every two hours to pee, and then I can't help but focus on my husband snoring loudly next to me. Since my sleep is so uninterrupted, I usually wake up feeling cranky and unrested and often spend my days counting down the hours until naptime. When Greta naps, I nap, too. It's my favorite time of the day.
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