Twenty three weeks pregnant. See also: the period of time in which you are plenty pregnant but nowhere near the end, blah blah blah, buy some more maternity clothes.
Last week was largely uneventful – no doctor’s appointments, no milestones, nothing of note. The only thing I did was fly to New York for work, and that is when I realized I am now at the point where travel requires a bit more prior planning. Namely it requires a lot of water consumption, so much in fact that you must be strategic about procuring water, paying attention to airline security check points (where the ill-prepared have to forfeit their water) and drinking water whenever you find yourself with a spare moment of time. If you do not pay attention to how much drinkable water you have around you, you might find yourself in your pjs in your hotel room absent mindedly chugging a liter of water only to realize the hotel just charged you $8.50 for the pleasure of quenching your thirst. You should also pack snacks when traveling for work just in case you find yourself in the raw cheese capital of the world (what is up with that NYC?) or at a work luncheon that consists of deli sandwiches. I’ll just go ahead and state that I don’t like pasta salad enough for it to compose my entire lunch, but there I was. At least I had water?
Worth noting: I’ve always, always selected ginger ale as my beverage of choice while flying, but pregnancy suddenly has me requesting apple juice. I have no idea why, just jotting it down for posterity. I also packed lightly enough that I was able to carry and lug my own luggage around without needing any assistance, which is a good rule of thumb for any traveler, pregnant or not. I’m always mystified by women in airports carrying The World’s Largest Suitcase in stiletto heels and then getting bent out of shape when no one comes to their assistance as they struggle through the terminal. When I was 12 I flew internationally as an unaccompanied minor and the night before I left my parents made me demonstrate that I could carry both my large duffel bag and my carry on bag through our house, all by myself. Pregnancy is no different – you can’t expect people to lift your bag into overhead bins so you have to pack lightly. This is how I found myself without a spare shirt after an unfortunate incident that involved coffee drips down my belly. Laundry stain sticks, so handy (and they take up less space than another shirt)!
We went out for our anniversary dinner this weekend (Chicagoans: you must go eat at Sable as soon as possible, it was wonderful) and I ordered a mocktail which was delicious and lovely but I definitely missed having a glass of nice red wine. Our debit card did not miss said wine however- it is amazing how much less a dinner bill is when you exclude half if not all of the booze. I also spent a morning with some friends of mine who are also pregnant and we were able to indulge in all the annoying pregnancy-talk we try to keep a handle on when we are in mixed company. We debated the merits of baby gear, complained about aches and pains and discussed the numerous logistical issues we will all be facing after we all give birth – in short it was lovely and I know all my non-pregnant friends appreciate that I have an outlet for that kind of talk so when I’m with them I can focus on other things, like world peace and celebrity gossip.
Other than being completely and utterly exhausted after the trip, I’m doing well. Heartburn is my top complaint, followed by a return of the unsettled stomach (which seems to be managed with careful eating and crackers and staying hydrated) but then again I’m also feeling the baby kick and squirm and dance around, so there are plenty of good things to focus on as well. I finally, finally have a hair cut on the calendar so I can say goodbye to the sister wife hair I’ve been lamenting for months. Procrastination FTW. I need to take my pair of maternity jeans in for hemming so I can wear them and retire my current pre-pregnancy jeans with the folded down waist, but you know, the road of good intentions and all that.
Week twenty three: also known as the week I began resembling a bell curve, aka my lower back will never, ever be the same.