This past week was pretty unremarkable. The whole “with child” thing has settled in, and is no longer consuming all my thoughts. I do still build up a very impressive shopping bag of Gap maternity clothes on a daily basis, but I’m getting better at x-ing out of the window before actually buying anything.
Being married is awesome. The Lumberjack is awesome. I can’t stop snuggling up to him on the couch (my favourite place to reside within the apartment, since I still feel lethargic and overall icky every night) and kissing his face. His face is so kissable! He is going to be embarrassed when/if I make this blog known to our Real Life Friends, but seriously. LOOK AT THIS FACE.
Exactly. You cannot not kiss it. Well, I cannot. I would rather you not, actually.
So anyway, I regularly swoon over my good luck to be happily married to my best possible partner in a good-enough-for-now apartment with 2 great cats, working at a job that I like and that earns me enough to support our growing family. Seriously, I’m fucking lucky. I’ve been a little overwhelmed lately with acknowledging what a great place I’m in, and being grateful to everything that allowed me to get here.
Pregnancy hormones! You are not just for weepy days anymore.
Anyway, back to Week Nine. Everything was fine, really. I told my dance troupe about the upcoming arrival, and they were amazingly excited and supportive. I slept a lot, and tried to remember to eat a lot. Things are supposedly getting bigger on the inside, but nothing’s really showing yet. So, you know. Just a regular week. EXCEPT FOR THE FACT THERE IS AN ALIEN INSIDE ME.
Oh! I discovered that I can easily get my heart rate up on the elliptical machine, without gasping for breath. Since pre-alien I was running 30-45 minutes 4-5 days a week, not being able to exercise (other than a somewhat brisk walk, which, please) was killing me. But the elliptical machine is magic! I hit it up 4 times last week and felt great. I’m still hoping that I’ll be able to run again soon, but I don’t feel quite so desperate anymore.
Now I think it’s time to eat again. Sheesh.