I loved every second of being pregnant with Lucy. The first little whispers of movement, even the great big belly-morphing movements at the end. I was never sick with Lu, never felt more tired than I could handle, never really had much to complain about. I felt beautiful, radiant even. Oh, I complained. Don't get me wrong there. I just feel like I was so in awe of the whole process and so filled with joy with the prospect of starting a family that I secretly relished even the discomfort at the end. I wasn't too disappointed even when my due date came and went and I still had to wait. It was exciting anticipation.
This pregnancy is different. I was so sick. I was (am?) so tired. I have to take care of an energetic toddler while being sick and tired. And now I'm big enough that I'm starting to feel uncomfortable when I stand. Or sit. Or lay down with a frillion pillows. And I know I have so much longer to go! Bidou has filled out all the extra flabby tummy skin Lucy left behind, and my stretch marks are remembering their ginormous blossoming proportions and waking from their saggy naps. My belly button is even starting to feel weird with some of the innie creeping outie (this never happened with Lucy, but I'm about 20lbs lighter at this point, maybe that matters?). And then there are other weirdnesses that are new to me: the super dry skin, the melasma only on the left side of my forehead, the charley horse-like round ligament pain in my stomach as Bidou grows and grows.
But! I'm still loving the baby acrobatics. That part will never not be magical. I have a little human under my skin. A boy human! Who is trying to run and jump and play even though he doesn't know how.
I'm more comfortable with the idea of having a baby this time around. I can imagine how the spring will be and I can plan for taking care of an infant. I know how it works, now. I love this little baby fiercely already, like I didn't know was possible before Lucy. He is already the fourth equal part of my family.
It would just be so convenient for me if the required cooking time for a baby were just a wee bit shorter.