Today marks half way. 20 weeks down, 20 to go. Approximately anyway.
19 more weeks would be better, but I’m not counting on that, seeing as babies number 1 and 2 both made their appearances after the so-called due date.
But that’s way in the future. It seems like ages since this all started, and let’s face it, you actually aren’t even pregnant weeks 1 and 2, and then don’t know you’re pregnant until sometime after week 4, so those first 20 weeks should fly by at a quicker clip than do the last 20. But I’m not going to dwell on that.
Instead I’m going to think about all the progress that’s been made. Chromosomes have been analyzed, blood has been drawn, glucose has been tested (repeatedly), ultrasounds performed, my cervix measured. Past are the days of feeling completely shitty unless chewing on a cracker, not being able to stand in the same room as someone wearing lotion, perfume, or even too clean hair, and the endless munching of Tums.
I’m done with all that (except maybe the Tums). Unfortunately, I’m also done with all my favorite jeans. Well, there's one solitary pair that I can still tug on, but they’ve sadly busted all the way through in the knee, just this week. It seems I’m busting out all over. I’m down to just one bra that still fits and a handful of shirts. Getting dressed every morning requires more and more creativity.
It's time to throw in the towel and start embracing the joys of maternity fashion. I have some cute stuff borrowed from two friends, but still, I’m going to have to venture out to shop for those big banded pants, asymmetrical longer-in-front shirts, and bathing suits designed to keep you covered instead of show you off.
I'm trying to enjoy each day, week, stage, but I'm not going to lie, thank god it's half time!