3rd time around...ain't so charming

You know all of those people who "just love pregnancy".  Yea, I'm not one of them.

While pregnant with Charlotte, I was so sick I had to go to the ER and I survived purely from Zofran and Tums.  Yet somehow, I look back on that pregnancy so fondly.  It was the first time for everything and everything was fabulous.  I remember being fascinated every time Charlotte had the hiccups.  And watching my little baby alien wiggle my belly around was just so cool.  I also look back at pictures where I've written captions implying how "big" I was and realize how big I truly wasn't.

With Cailin, I expected the changes and I was generally able to keep up with my toddler despite the weight gain and discomfort.  Heartburn was bad again but the Tums got me through.  I gained more weight earlier on which challenged my vanity.  Gaining 40 pounds is pretty fun while you're eating cheesecake but not as uplifting when you're being forced on the scale once a week.

Finding out I was pregnant the 3rd time around was awesome.  We were in Iguazu Falls, Argentina and I took a test purchased from an airport in Buenos Aires.  The instructions were in Spanish but there's really only one way to pee on a stick.  I knew even before seeing the plus sign on the test.  Having obsessed over getting pregnant with the first two, I knew all of the signs.  But getting the official Yes was exciting.  About 2 weeks later, my pants were tight and I felt nauseous.  I was able to keep running until about 20-25 weeks and then I really started to slow down (literally and figuratively).  Having a bowling ball under my shirt made it hard to keep up with my prior habits.  I feel selfish writing this.  I also have 2 little people now to keep up with.  And maybe it's related to aging.  But, man, pregnancy is rough.  The heartburn is so, so much worse this time.  The contractions started so much earlier and have come on so much stronger.  There's the insomnia.  And oh my, the weight gain.  Not that I didn't just enjoy my McDonalds dinner, but hearing my midwife ask if I had "big babies before" wasn't encouraging.

But, alas, the end is in sight.  There's 4 weeks til my due date (and only 2 weeks til the time Charlotte arrived).  Going to the hospital in extreme pain with only Matt is the start of the most amazingly wonderful part of pregnancy.  We arrive a couple.  And we leave a trio.  In a day, our entire world changes.  Forever.   It's magical.  There's just no other word to describe it.  Every last pregnant day is worth it when our little family grows to include a new little person.  And this time it'll be a boy.  I can.  Not.  Wait.  And it's not just because I'm ready to not be pregnant.  It's more that I'm ready to hold this little guy who's been growing inside me for the better part of this year.

18 weeks

28 weeks

29 weeks

31 weeks

35 weeks

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