K.I.D. Positive - 30 weeks

10 more weeks to go!

Goodness me, can you taste the amniotic fluid yet?? I sure can. My gosh, how can I describe the strangeness without sounding like someone who is still too immature to care for a human child. Let's start with the physical.

My boy is big and strong in there. He hangs out very low so I often feel him pushing against the waistband of my pants. He's searching for the exit, I feel. I hope he decides to cook a bit longer before climbing out of his little Truman show hole. My groin, hips and back are in extraordinary pain all the time. All movement, no matter how small, hurts like bloody hell. I have been more or less confined to sitting jobs at work, which is nice that they are allowing me to hang around, but also embarrassing because people still think it's cute or funny to say things like, "Don't work too hard".

I hate that. I fucking hate it.

My feet are the same size. No swelling there. My blood pressure is okay and, apart from my groin troubles, I'm not really worse for wear. I have felt super hungry the past two weeks or so and that is new for me, too. I don't recall feeling any surge in appetite in the first or second trimester, but now? Good heavens, I feel like I could eat every 10 minutes. And like it. I have tried to do right by Herbert with wheat cereals, oatmeal and fruits and veggies I don't ordinarily eat. It doesn't do much for me other than tether me to the toilet, but I'm really hoping he's getting something out of it. Muscles, maybe. My boy is quite strong.

So then! The mental and emotional!

I feel an ownership and attachment to him, though I still have no concept of what he is. Does that make sense? Let me try again. I am not properly conscious of him as a human being. This pregnancy has felt like a strange thing I caught from eating bad salmon or something. It is this weird thing that is happening to me, but I am not viewing it as creation. Not yet, anyways. Thanks to the sonograms, I have watched him grow from a dehydrated shrimp bit to a pineapple sized baby boy. He's got fingers and toes and eyes and hiccups, yet I am still not making the connection that he has grown inside of me and I am his mother. The attachment I feel to him now is akin to the attachment I feel to George. I want to keep him safe and provide for him, but I didn't birth George, do you see what I'm saying? I don't know. It's weird to try and articulate, so I guess I'll give up and say that I have a ways to go before I make the full transformation from afflicted to mother. 

I have done nothing to ready my apartment for his arrival, but not for lack of drive, necessarily. It just seems so hopeless there. The cost of a larger storage unit would really put me out more than I could afford, which means I'd be throwing away a lot of things and I fully understand that sacrifices will have to be made to accommodate my little H.O.O.T., but I guess I just wish I had spent more time enjoying my space before having to tear it down, privacy and all. Anyways, I'll get started on that soon. Promise.

10 weeks, folks.

Just 10 weeks.

We haven't purchased a single diaper.

#YOLO

That hurt to type.