Yes, I’m still alive. In fact, I’ve had a draft of a blog post for an embarrassingly long time, and even more embarrassing, this is not it. It’s not that I haven’t had things to say, it’s just… life getting in the way.
So for my first post in a long while, I present a double feature, if you will. I’m combining the Money Monday I totally intended to post this week (also not the aforementioned draft) with some Wardrobe Wednesday fun. First, here’s my bump as of today. I’m 33 weeks pregnant.
For comparison, here’s my 35-week bump from last time:
Yeah, I’m bigger this time, but not like OMG circus-freak big. So, we can stop with the comments about how huge I am, k? It’s getting old. I know with 100% certainty that I’m not having twins, that the baby is not unhealthily large, and that everything is going fine. It’s just normal, bigger-the-second-time-around-edness. Thanks.
That said, it does certainly FEEL pretty darn big. Perhaps I’m just not as in shape this time, or maybe it’s weak muscles from having a cesarean before, or just from having had a baby in there once before, or what, but yeah. It hurts having a bump. As some of you may know, despite never wearing a support belt when I was pregnant with Dagmar, I’ve been using one for a long, long time this pregnancy.
I dedicate this post to my wonderful support belt.
My Support Belt
I love you, oh support belt! You were worth every øre!
Not that it makes all the pain go away, but it helps a lot. If any pregnant women out there are reading this and have ever entertained the idea of getting one, just go do it. For real. Best ever. Before the belt, it felt like my belly wasn’t even a part of me. It was just extra weight attached to me and pulling me down. I hated it. Now I only kinda dislike my bump, and it feels like it really is part of my body. An annoying part of my body, but hey, this is a big step up.
I can’t believe I have nearly two months left to go, and that kinda makes me want to cry sometimes, but we’re getting there. Every day, we’re getting closer. I’m trying my darndest to think it’s cute when Maggie kicks me in the ribs. Thomas is probably getting tired of me calling him over to come feel the kicks, but if I concentrate on how fun it must be for other people, it keeps me from thinking about how uncomfortable it is for me. I don’t remember Dagmar’s kicks being this annoying.
At least I have a support belt.
Hopefully I’ll get around to posting again on Friday, but if not, I’m probably still alive. Just with a cold, a dead laptop, and a toddler coughing up a lung. No biggie.