I'm 12 weeks in.
My clothes are getting tighter. I've only (thankfully) gained three pounds. I think I look a little 'thicker" rather than knocked up. Like I've been willfully ignoring the counsel of my evil nutritionist. Being open with my colleagues about the nutritionist and the change in diet and the A1C number, etc, has hopefully worked in my favor on this front....maybe?
But when I mentioned to Dr. W yesterday that I was planning on not divulging this pregnancy until I made it through an anatomy scan (mine is scheduled at 19 weeks), she actually laughed in my face.
You're five feet tall! You're small! Where do you plan on hiding this baby?
Ha Ha Dr. W. Yeah, you know, seeing as things go terribly terribly wrong in pregnancy in the second trimester, I'm gonna try hard as all fuck to hide this.
But then life is also making it harder. Like, my in-laws are popping in on my beach vacation, when I will be between 17 and 18 weeks. Awkward much?
And the leadership of my organization is adding a fuck ton of work to my team's plates... unrealistic goals and assignments that I know are unrealistic if I make a calendar that includes my leave.
Monday I'm having my first trimester Level II scan -yes, the very scan where my life fell apart when I was pregnant with Celine. No amount of mediation will prevent my blood pressure from skyrocketing at that visit. Fuck, I'm expecting to ugly cry regardless of the outcome (no mascara that day justonemore). This time I've demanded that Viking accompany me. There are a million things that are rare, not even on the radar of the average pregnant women, that can still go wrong later on. I am going to spare my blood pressure and not start listing them here. Yes, indeed, I know too much.
But that scan would be a temporarily pleasant hurdle to jump regardless.
Focusing on trivial matters like weight gain is a lot more fun than the reality that tight clothes haven't led to a baby in my arms since I was pregnant with the Nibble.