10:21 a.m. - 2006-07-24
Wide Load
This morning's weigh-in (my self-imposed Monday morning ritual) revealed my new mass to be 145 pounds -- 22 more than pre-pregnancy. So, clearly, our scale is broken.
I'm expanding at an even more rapid pace than before, if that's possible. My books tell me to expect to gain close to a pound a week for the duration. Um, hello -- I have 12 MORE WEEKS! This isn't nearly as fun as I thought it would be. My breathing is impacted, because my lungs are smooshed somewhere up in my chest cavity, probably right below my throat. Many nights, I keep myself awake from the sound of my labored breathing. And after a meal of almost any kind, I can forget comfort -- there's just not enough room for the baby and solid nourishment, much less excess ice cream.
It's becoming more and more difficult to get myself around, mostly from a seated position to standing. Yesterday morning, I woke up in the middle of our bed. I tried to maneuver over to my side, so I could do my new swing-legs-over-side-of-bed-and-hoist-upper-body-out move, but all I could manage was a feeble Shamu-like slither. Truly, it must have looked exactly like a big seal trying to climb out of its icky tank to sun itself on the rocks. Joe said, "Is anyone here a marine biologist?"
Later that morning, I went to check on a new cat, who wanted nothing more than to curl up in my lap and purr and stare at me with his sweet face. Only I don't have a lap anymore, and the cat tried every position he could to get comfortable on my soccer ball-sized belly, while Pumpkin kicked in protest under his paws. He finally gave me a look that said, "Where the hell is your lap? My mom's lap is way better than this" and sat down beside me instead.
