What a difference a few days makes. Since Thursday, I have kept every little nibble of food that has entered my lips, down in my belly and thus, my belly has seemed to morph into a whole new creation. My belly suddenly appears to look more like a preggo paunch than the aftermath of a night of eating too many carbs. There’s something semi-satisfying about barely being able to button my dress pants after a few months of questioning the reality of being pg. After much recommendation from my boss, Shannon, I have added a new item to my wardrobe… the Bella Band. It should not be called the Bella Band though but rather the most beautiful invention in the history of the world (yes, ahead of the lightbulb, modern plumbing, and the computer) because it allows me to keep my pants discretely unbuttoned, avoiding any Britney Spears-esque escapades and affording me a few moments in my current collections while I am teeter-tottering between regular and maternity garb. I am still sliding comfortably into my jeans but the dress pants may soon have to be retired. Luckily, Adam is very understanding of my sunrise griping sessions in which I whine and complain that I can’t very well let my style (whatever style I think I have) go to the wayside and wear weird fashion statements just because we have a baby en route.
As I adjust to my ever-changing physique, one of my biggest concerns remains … prior to becoming a mama-to-be, I heard many a whispering from onlookers regarding the fact that some pregnant woman look pregnant (read: cute and adorable) or they look pregnant all over (read: larger than a house). Both my sister and sister-in-law appeared pregnant (cute and compact) … that’s a lot of pressure on a girl. Although I understand that being pregnant is about growing a whole, beautiful mini-human, I knew that it would be difficult to deal with the expanding body that comes along with it (if a woman says that this didn’t bother her, please know, she is lying). I am crossing my fingers and saying a prayer (and continuing to stay active) in hopes that, perhaps, just maybe, the cute and adorable pregnancy form will befall me. Should I reach house-sized proportions, please don’t ask me how many babies I am having or how much longer until I set the baby free. These are never comforting, funny or appropriate questions.
It is a beautiful thing to eliminate trips to the bathroom in which I lose my lunch from my to-do list for the week and I am fairly confident that this is not simply a fluke but a new season to my pregnancy. As the calendar changes from summer to fall, my symptoms also change from morning sickness to heartburn. As Adam noted, heartburn was my very first issue and it has once again landed on my doorstep. Zofran was my fast-friend through the first trimester and it appears that Mr. Tums has joined me for the second. Let me tell you, I will gladly take my chest-a-flamin’ over the porcelain pedastal any day. The fantastic fact that comes with these symptoms is that Baby Brehm (aka Snowball) is thriving and livin’ it up down in my belly. Adam and I are just happy that Baby is in for the long haul!
