spregnancy: so far

I misspelled pregnancy that way in my journal the other day and decided I like it. It’s a sprig of a plant, and it’s spunky, whereas now the word pregnancy seems pudgy or priggish. I’m at the five month mark, and here are some notes about my main symptoms thus far:

• being thrilled out of my brains for a baby
• crying about how I’ll protect it from random accidents
• a sensitive gag reflex and car sickness, though, thankfully, not much other nauseousness
• restlessness at night – however, since I don’t have a specific schedule to maintain, I can sleep other times of day (though, then I feel like I get nothing accomplished, a feeling I try to fight)
• the eternal need to pee, night and day, day and night
• thinking about my own childhood, hoping I can recreate all the wonderful experiences my parents gave to me, and imagining new traditions too
• an inflamed pelvic ligament, which is much better than before but not totally calmed down
• feeling kicks and wiggles all day now (!)
• hitting my belly on things accidentally – bicycle riding is becoming problematic, because my thighs jostle my belly with each pedal: left, right, now left, now right. Poor kid. As things progress, I’ll simply have to spread my knees outward.
• enhanced shapeliness
• stretch marks in said shapely spots
• wondering how we’ll discipline our kid
• slightly elevated blood pressure, the thing I’m most concerned about, since it could mean the difference in a home birth or not – I’m attempting to bring it down with a liquid calcium/magnesium supplement my midwife suggested

Regarding the birth itself, our hope is to have this punkin in the comfort and warmth of our home, or rather my parents’ home, where we’ve decided to stay until the birth at least. They have a full basement apartment for us, and it will be quite convenient all around. It's only a mile from a hospital that tends toward natural childbirth philosophy, so in the case of needing to go there, I know that my wishes will still be honored.

here we are in a dress that belonged to my great-aunt, Wilma

shootin' with Grandpa and the cousins

(don't worry; I was only shooting a .22, and when my cousins shot a big rifle, I held a pillow to my belly)

new life and new life boiled. Is that weird? Sorry.