Other titles I considered for this week’s post:
- Nothing is possible
- It’s not really morning sickness if you don’t sympathy vomit with your toddler
- Ode to Daniel Tiger
- Pennymouth returns
While I was looking forward to my first trimester symptoms beginning to fade, Week 11 has been a doozy. I think it’s a combination of the true arrival of summer heat, a particularly busy week of freelancing, an extended visit to The Toddler’s gut from a stomach virus (one that I thankfully did not catch), and the fact that I am growing a baby from scratch. That never helps.
Last weekend, we drove to a friend’s backyard wedding celebration with The Toddler in tow, all of us wearing our garden party best. As soon as we got off the highway I heard a retching from the backseat and turned around to find The Toddler had gotten (what I thought was) very, very carsick all over himself and his carseat. We parked and cleaned him up as best we could (fortunately there was a trashbag full of clothes destined for Goodwill in the trunk that we used to mop up) and put his backup clothes on. We thought we were in the clear until he repeated that act on the ride home. And then again at 2 a.m. And then again two mornings later.
I won’t get into further detail other than to say the lingering effects of this bug have made diaper changes a blast (gross gross pun not intended), and that I know my morning sickness can’t be that much to complain about if I was able to dismantle and hose chunks of string cheese and strawberries out of his carseat without joining in on the fun.
I decided to keep The Toddler away from other kids this week in case he was still contagious, so we spent our mornings taking strolls around Hinckley Lake (I’m trying to keep up some semblance of a walking routine with this pregnancy). I don’t think this has been particularly beneficial for my energy level, but it feels good to exercise and I’ve even dropped one or two of the alarmingly quick LBs I put on in the earliest weeks of pregnancy.
We even took a dip in the swimming area one hot morning after our work. Also, we found a tiny toad hopping across our path.
This hit-by-a-truck afternoon fatigue has me leaning on a new crutch in the form of Daniel Tiger. Six months ago, I nearly smacked my father-in-law’s phone out of his hand when he dared try to show The Baby a streaming football game. When we moved to the new house a year ago I insisted our 46″ TV live in the basement so we wouldn’t give into temptation to watch TV in front of our kid. I was, as I often am, probably pretty insufferable about this hard line, but now that he’s venturing into 18-month territory (and I’m flirting with narcolepsy), our post-nap routine involves an episode of DT almost every day. No regrets.
I thought I had left behind the terrible metallic taste in my mouth that plagued the first few weeks of pregnancy, but it returned with a vengeance this week, along with pounding headaches and serious food aversions. I even skipped a few meals because I just couldn’t bear the thought of eating.
The misery peaked on Thursday, and as soon as The Husband got home from work I retreated to bed with my eye mask and a bag of Goldfish crackers. The Husband has stepped up to an impressive and humbling degree over the past month or so, taking over as the primary caregiver from dinnertime on and cleaning up after I fall asleep like a GD magic elf. I know at the end of this all I have to push out another 7.5 lb baby out of me and then breastfeed him or her every two hours for a month, but The Husband is really putting in the early work that is making me think I probably won’t curse his name in labor.
The Toddler has also been really impressed with The Husband this week, and wants very little to do with me if Dad is home. I thought my feelings might be a little hurt but it’s actually really freaking great. Best of all, it seems I’m off the hook for bedtime, which has been my sole purview for months and months and months. The Toddler is now nursing just once a day, and while I’ll probably mourn nursing a little bit when it’s over, it’s feeling really liberating right now that he is nearly weaned.
One last thing I’ve noticed about my second pregnancy so far is that it seems to be going an awful lot faster than the first. I remember reading the “your baby is the size of X” each week the first time around and thinking, “Raspberry? kumquat? Come on kid, grow!” Now we’re almost in lime territory and it’s really hard for me to fathom that we’ve gone from poppyseed to lime in what feels like no time at all.
Then I look at my toddler who is running and climbing and picking up new words almost daily and I almost lose my breath at how vanishingly fast it all goes.