As of today I am seven weeks pregnant and as I say this with pride at having made it through another week without incident I am prompted to reflect on my pre-preggie days and my utter disgust at being told the term of a woman’s pregnancy in weeks.
In my stream lined perfect universe a woman was 2months pregnant or 4 months pregnant and not 8weeks or 16 weeks pregnant.
The labor of dividing weeks to illustrate months was by no means the highlight of watching other woman expand to the size of small countries and it did not take me long before I stopped asking that dumb “how far along are you question” all together.
However Pregnancy itself has a way of buggering up such streamlined perfect universes as mine and now in my own pregnant state I find myself inclined to the same horrible habit.
I also find that it is a habit born out of the fact that finding out you are pregnant is the best day of your life regardless of whether you expected the news or not, and
as soon as the euphoria starts to ware off, you realize exactly how long nine months is and that placing waypoints 30 days apart is cruel and unusual punishment for any expectant mother (or father for that matter).
Yes its called expectant for a reason and the fact it that marking your progress by weeks instead of months helps to calm the excitement that’s burning a hole in the back of your scull.
Yes Ladies, Gentleman, Grannies, Granddads, Great Grannies, Great Granddads, Aunties, Uncles Cuzons, Great Cuzons, and cuzons once removed.
I am at the front door of my seventh week and due to my regular consumption of nutritious low fat low taste meals have not picked up any weight, a fact that I am sure my mother will be proud of.
Don’t get me wrong I am by no means becoming a fan of the new “prego-rexia” movement. The fact is that since I only ate one meal a day before my pregnancy and have now increased that number to five I am doing exactly the opposite. A practice that, while providing the thingy with its daily dose of grub is speeding up my metabolism and while I am not picking up weight I may be slowly losing it.
I have also started to substitute my abnormally large intake of cheap coffee with moderate doses of earl grey tea.
I realize that tea also contains caffeine but after all the bad habits I have given up so far asking me to completely cut out caffeine would be the equivalent of asking me to flay the skin of my face.
IT AINT GONNA HAPPEN.
Sorry Thingy, Mommy’s no saint.
I drink more water and under Eugene’s unflinching vigilance take a multi- vitamin twice a day that makes my pee turn tennis ball yellow.
As far as the baby is concerned, Thingy is not lacking in news by any stretch of the imagination.
During this week Thingy should develop elbows and slowly but surely fingers that will, I’m sure, be sporting a Parker solute in no time.
Thingy is also busy growing feet, intestines and teeth this week and will be limiting the size of his head to a manageable size in accordance to our very long conversation about the limitations of mommy vjayjay.
Eugene and I have discussed the matter and decided that since Thingy will be taking his surname and thereby continuing Eugene and his father‘s endangered lineage I am entitled to name the baby after my father. Presuming we have a boy.
So if it’s a boy Thingy he will be named David Nel.
And I am hoping for a big mop of curly black hair.
0 comments:
Post a Comment