It is only in the past three weeks or so that I’ve begun myself to feel pregnant. I now also look it. Obviously.
But I feel it; in the way the weight of my stomach (and I suppose it is still mine though it is swollen not by my pasta consumption) propels me forward, pushing my back out of alignment and causing a slight (I like to think) waddle in my movement. I feel it in the way that that same belly wakes me up in the night like some bothersome beast that simply cannot be made comfortable.
Most disturbingly, I feel it in the way that my stomach now distends with movement not my own and, in doing so, often disturbs what I am doing.
It’s also come to bear in the restless boredom I feel most hours of the day. A state which my ceramics teacher has termed ‘fuck it’ and keenly identified as having arrived with me. Usually at this point in semester I’d be in full production mode, getting things made, plotting how to squeeze in extra making and being slightly stressed about the amount of things, both made and unmade, which I now had to complete.
This time round I just… can’t. I had class today from 9am-1pm and, were it a typical semester, would have stayed making until at least 6pm (lawyer stamina being put to good use).
Today I managed to survive class – and it did feel like a feat of personal strength –only to promptly go home and lie down. Stopping on the way to buy something insultingly termed a ‘Belly Bean’ which should hopefully help with the sleeping through the night thing (who knew you had crap sleep before the infant even arrived?) and also prevent me from hitting my long suffering partner when he misappropriates one of the many pillows being utilised as a back / stomach / limb support.
In other news my long suffering partner clearly doesn’t mind being hit for pillow stealing, or thinks that marriage will prevent me doing so (it won’t). It was not a typically romantic setting, no candles, elaborate meals or landmark destinations; just me in my pyjamas lounging in a post-dinner food coma and him slightly sweating and stumbling when that ‘down on one knee’ part came to be.
I wouldn’t have had it any other way – not just because public displays make me so inordinately uncomfortable I probably would have said no in reflex. Which would have been more than awkward for all involved.
In other news I’m having a baby shower this weekend, which is also making me a mix of uncomfortable and anxious as it combines all the stress of expecting people to deviate out of their day to celebrate something of yours with the notion of gifts that are for you but not for you. Never having been to a baby shower (who would have thought I’d be the first of my friends doing this parenthood thing? Definitely not me) I don’t really understand what the point is or whether they’re actually enjoyable to attend. I suppose we shall find out the answer to both, come Saturday.