You'd think a woman who's been in this predicament six times would have at least made her peace with pregnancy, but I haven't. I love babies. I love children. I assume I'll love teens and adults since I generally do enjoy people. I do not love being pregnant.
There's the first three months when I feel very proud of myself for getting anything done--anything. Then there's the first month of feeling better and trying to dig out from the three months of just surviving. Now I'm finally in the sweet spot, but as always I'm getting carried away. I've got a new physical fitness regimen. (I'm overly cautious about doing my regular stuff with a spud on the way.) Harriet is on fire--my gigantic whiteboard is covered with multi-colored analysis of the plot reconstruction I'm working on. I've decided that I'm going to try and set up AP level classes for our oldest's high-school experience, so I've got lists and publishers and resources to hunt down. (Yes, I know I've got 2 and 1/2 years to prepare, but it's only 2 and1/2 years for a very ambitious goal.) I've also got a project or two cooking away for Heifer, and all the usual stuff.
I know I have to hurry with all this as the waddling phase is coming soon. Most of the stuff can continue through the waddling phase, but honestly who wants to? I know that most people consider the pregnancy over after labor, but I always lump in that first 2 months of getting baby on a schedule. At least you don't have the whole bowling ball, constantly changing center of gravity thing to deal with, and there's this beautiful little person to get to know, but you still can't get into any kind of routine.
This is most likely my last pregnancy. I suppose I should be nostalgic, but, well, pregnancy and I know each other far to well for that. :)
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