By the time this is over my uterus could have made the grossest fruit salad ever.
Twenty one weeks seems like a long time, but it has flown by. After all the shock and excitement and worry settles down you'd think it would just drag on and on, and it totally does!
WHERE'S MY BABY ALREADY!?!
Just kidding. It doesn't drag, I keep being shocked that my pants don't fit, or that my bras actually do fit (see all that praying from Jr. High DID work! I just should have been a little more specific about when I wanted my boobs). And even though I'm shocked all day long, trying to navigate my new body around water coolers I could normally breeze past, or up out of a low couch that I now have to just do a slow roll off and onto the floor - I'm always thinking it. At every second I know I'm pregnant. And that is a weird thing. Like a new way of breathing. But rounder.
Anyway, the other day my sister took me to Tiffany's (because she's fancy) and I was walking around the store daydreaming about which ring the lead singer of Mumford and Sons would buy me on our romantic getaway to Tahiti when I caught sight of this:
A giant, lime, praying mantis that's just eaten her mate's head.
It was shocking to see that image of me in the mirror at Tiffany's. That pregnant girl was me. I wanted to grab the sales lady by her $1500 lapel pin and say, "Look at my reflection! I'm pregnant even there!" But I didn't because she looked like all she would do was try to sell me something sparkly as a congratulations prize, and I am easily talked into sparkly things right now. The other day I bought a plant because a piece of glitter had fallen on it.
It was like being hit in the head with a ton of bricks. Not only do I know I'm pregnant, but now other people can know without me telling them. And how amazing! How totally incredible! How in the world is the Mumford and Sons lead singer going to want to run away to Tahiti with me now?!
No one falls in love with a pregnant woman at first glance. Do they? That was my actual thought: What if I meet whoever that guy is now?! He won't want me because I'm pregnant!
Now, don't get me wrong - I love the father of my child. A lot. With every part of me I love him and have no intention of leaving him. For a famous person or not. He's shockingly wonderful, kind, supportive, and did not leave me those few weeks I would pregnantly scream things like, "I would NEVER ask you to run an errand for me! NEVER!" and then break down into uncontrollable sobs, and flop onto the couch in complete and utter despair because apparently when he asked me to pick something up from the store, a store I was five feet away from, it was equivalent to ruining my entire life. (Meanwhile, I'd been asking him to get me things on a daily basis for months. Things like, "Please find a honeydew melon." In Montana. In the middle of a snow storm. And he did it without batting an eye, and came home with a smile on his gorgeous little face.)
My point is, I don't actually want to run away with the lead singer of a band, but I like having the "option". I like that if I'm bored at a jewelry store* I can let my mind drift to an alternate life where people I'll never meet buy me things I would never wear in real life. Because it's fun. Because it's tax season and I need it. Because at the end of the fantasy I'd always choose real life, and the real people in my life.
So, I guess I'm going to have to alter my daydreaming a little bit. And that's ok. Because the more I think about it, the more I like daydreaming about what life is going to be like five months from now, a year from now, eighteen years from now. Because it doesn't involve just myself. And that's a nice thought. A totally crazy, slightly panic-inducing thought - but a nice one nonetheless.
*The women of my family just cringed a little. Bored? At a jewelery store? Are you even female!
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