Blaise would rather sit on the couch and watch Back to The Future or anything else TBS has to offer than drive an hour to the lake when it's more than likely going to rain. This is the first time in our marriage that we’ve had cable - or a TV for that matter, so I try to give him grace. But I have a very convincing “even if it rains, I promise it will be fun” argument and after a dramatic side-eye, he conceded.
It did rain. But only a little. And I was right, it was still fun. We took a nap in the sand, had a picnic then kayaked around Lake Jocassee.
This was 2 weekends ago when I was 23 weeks pregnant. It was the first week I started to feel confident in my bump. I didn’t like taking photos the first 20 weeks of pregnancy because I didn’t necessary look pregnant. Up until now, I just looked like I had a really good time at brunch. (And on most days, that was probably true.) But now, there is no hiding this little miracle.
I’m just over 25 weeks now and there is no question I am sharing my body with a little babe- about 13.5 inches long, a pound and a half. The size of a Prairie Dog, if you will. When I feel little kicks, I try to place Blaise’s hand in the perfect spot so he can feel too- this has been successful 2 out of 832 times. Every night before bed, I look at him and say “But for real, can you believe there’s like this tiny person who we’ve never even met who is just living inside my body?” And we both start laughing. Because being pregnant is actually the weirdest thing.
Everything I read about this stage of pregnancy tells me I am hormonal and probably acting crazy. Occasionally, I’ll check in with Blaise on the matter, “So, do you think I’ve gone crazy yet?” He says no- which means either I haven’t gone crazy. OR I have most definitely gone crazy.... because who's gonna tell a crazy pregnant lady that she's crazy? It’s hard to know anything about real life when you’re pregnant. Everyone lies to you. People will see me “You look SO good”… and I’m like “Really? Because I haven’t washed my hair in 4 days and I’m pretty sure I’ve gained nearly 20 pounds since the last time you saw me.” So, what scale are we going by? I look good compared to what - back when I still wore eye liner and could walk up a flight of stairs with out taking a break? Good compared to that? Or are you just a nice person and your initial thought of “My god, I can’t believe you left the house like that” didn’t seem appropriate?
Either way, I am appreciative. My self esteem is likely built off of white lies and I am totally fine with that.
25 weeks down, 15 to go...