So it’s really official now – everyone knows it. I am pregnant. My stomach sticks out, I have to pee all the time, I lose all concentration if I haven’t eaten in over an hour, my nose is always running, and WHAT IS UP WITH MY SCALP. I have dandruff. wtF. I’m not enjoying that part.
But otherwise this pregnancy thing is pretty fun. I really do sit around with my hands on my belly. I take it on adventures (on Friday we went on a little picnic), just me and the belly. I take pictures of it from my perspective, and record little anecdotes about what we’re up to. The plan is to make it all into a little book, but who knows if I’ll actually make that happen.
I had another one of my stupid freakouts last night, where I inexplicably decide that the Lumberjack is eventually going to tire of me, that I’m not interesting enough/don’t share his interests/don’t want to spend two hours at experimental music concerts/etc, and that it’s only a matter of time before I am OLD and ALONE with NOTHING. I wish I could blame this on pregnancy hormones, but this random panicking is par for the course for me (and So Much Fun for the Lumberjack). Anyway, the Lumberjack was, as usual, sweet and kind without actually giving any credence to my stupid fears. And he said “of course I’m not going to leave you – you and the Little Terrorist are my family.”
We Are A Family. Whaaaaaaat. It’s true, and so weird to realize. It’s not just the two of us, a legal entity that could be undone if desired. We’re a FAMILY and are forevermore linked and united.
So, that’s awesome.