The boy now feels like he takes up my everywhere.
There isn't a bit of my insides that he isn't pressing up or down or sideways on.
I envision him with his feet firmly planted in my lungs (or maybe his head - I still don't know which way he's situated) and the rest of his body firmly settled into my other organs.
He gets a back itch, and rubs it up against my liver for a good scratch. And when he feels like a little toe tickle, he skibbles his feet along my ribs.
This is my vision of some of the antics in there.
I walk around holding my stomach a lot for moral support. I thank goodness I worked my abs a ton last year. I feel sorry for them getting all stretched and poked.
I feel sorry for me getting all stretched and poked.
The weird thing is, while I'm physically feeling all sorry for myself, I realize more and more that I already just love the shit out of him. I absolutely can't wait to have him, to pick him up and kiss and squeeze and love on him.
And the thing I don't get about this is that I know there's an actual human in there, but it's really impossible to imagine what he's going to be like. And even so, I love him.
So last week I started getting lightheaded a lot, and I had a couple episodes of my heart racing while I was sitting at my desk, doing nothing more strenuous than trying to edit a tedious document.
My OB sent me to a cardiologist, who did these tests that show that my heart is structurally fine. He said this is really common in pregnancy. But just to be sure there isn't something else going on, he had me spend 24 hours wearing these electrodes.
I felt all bionic. And sweaty. And itchy. And I couldn't bathe, as I'd been told no unequivocally - no bathing! These machines are expensive!
If you live in DC, you know last Monday and Tuesday were hot and sweaty. I was gross.
So they stuck all these things on me with what I have to say is very impressive adhesive and then gave me the little monitor to hang on the waist of my pants. I nearly dropped it in the toilet a couple times. I had to start tucking it in my bra while in the bathroom.
They also give you a little diary with all these slots to record every activity and every symptom. Like, if you walk up the stairs and get lightheaded - activity and resultant symptom.
Activities to include: eating, exercise, sex, bowel movements, ingesting caffeine or alcohol. . .
I will tell you, writing all this town and noting the specific time makes you hyperaware of how much snacking you do, the timing of your bowel movements, and how lacking in heart-racing romance your life might be.
What I also discovered, though, is that my lightheadedness happens mostly when I'm sitting or standing. While I'm walking, I'm usually good. And then I stop and get all dizzy.
This is still the case. I've been paying attention.
Anyway, I dropped off their little machine and will hear back next week on what they say. Which I know will be: it's normal. This happens to pregnant woman. It's hormones and the kid.
Everything happens to pregnant women. It's hormones and the kid. Always.
I am telling you, your leg could fall off, and they'd say, "Sure, bring it in for testing. But that happens all the time to pregnant women."