Well, I'm not very good at the every day posting thing, but I think I can still keep up on the weekly additions. I have gone to one appointment besides the original hospital visit, and so far it seems that I know more about how my baby is progressing than anyone else does. I've received three different due dates, and other than wondering when the thing is going to come out, no one seems too interested in what is going on. My mother and a few friends are obsessing over the news, mainly because it's something new, and other than that my life is exactly the same.
My mood swings are continuously attacking my husband without any warning. I feel really bad for him, but if there's no way for me to predict them, how can I stop them? I seem to be fine at work and with friends or my brother, probably because I'm on superguard against rage, but when I'm around my mom or my baba I just let my guard down and that's when my weird stress unravels like a coiled panther. With rabies.
Another thing I am very concerned about is my swollen belly. According to the little research I've conducted so far, I shouldn't be showing at all in my 9th week. Stupid websites are saying I should be looking like a freakin' supermodel, because my boobs should be swollen without the stomach addition quite yet. BUT THAT'S NOT THE CASE!! Granted, I haven't been doing any sit ups, but am I weird for thinking that might be harmful to the fetus?! It said not to start working out more than I did before, and I was kind of slacking already so I just kept slacking. I am still on my feet all day and eating more healthily than...well, ever. And I quit smoking and drinking, blah blah blah. Shouldn't that make a positive difference?
This might seem like a stupid thing to stress over, except that I will be showing the premature curvaceousness of my body to my husband's family in California in a mere two weeks. In a skimpy backless dress. And I'm supposed to get in a skin-colored bikini tomorrow around my hub and his four friends.
Call me paranoid.
I probably wouldn't have so much of an issue with it if I'd ever really had an issue with my weight before. I was a little chubby when I was twelve, but I slimmed down to the extreme and kept it off permanently...until now. There were a few times when my diet unhinged a little and I leaned toward 125, but I know that's really nothing and usually I stay right between 116 and 117. I'm only at 120 now. I shouldn't be this bloated!!!!
Okay, letting it go, letting it go. Ha. I will just embrace my new body and stick it out like I'm proud of the olive-sized baby inside. Which I am.
I started writing a letter to her. Or him. I think it's a she, he thinks it's a he. Of course. I just started out with the basic thought process, explaining how I'm trying to transition into the mind of a new mother, how I'm trying to help my hubby through it, and how he's holding me through it. My brother, the father of a 9 month old, thinks this is a riot. He endured his wife's trauma, and for some reason watching my husband endure it is hilarious to him. Har de har. Well, time to go rafting tomorrow. Wish luck and some kind of round beauty to this self-conscious sob story, folks.
