I spent the first 22 years of my life paying very little attention to what was going on in the sporting world. Then I got married to a huge sports fan. He spent the first year of our marriage quizzing me on which sports teams played in which cities, which baseball teams belonged to the American League and the National League and which teams played in which divisions in the NFL.
One of Eddie's favorite summer pastimes is going to baseball games. We haven't been to many recently (two preschoolers make attending games a little bit more difficult), but in our pre-kid life we lived in St. Louis and frequently went to Busch Stadium to see the Cardinals play. We'd always get to the game pretty early, hike up to our seats in the nosebleeds, and watch the grounds people get the field ready. Then the game would start, and my mind would wander. When someone got a hit I'd pay attention, but for most of the game I'd spend my time watching the people around me, staring up into the sky above me, or planning what I'd get to eat at the concession stand at the next break.
My favorite part of the game was always the seventh-inning stretch. You know, that time between the top and bottom of the seventh innings when everyone would stand up and we'd all sing "Take me out to the ballgame." I'd spend the whole evening looking forward to getting up to stretch and sing, and when it was over I wanted to go home. I don't have the patience to sit through a three-hour ball game. It didn't matter if the score was tied or Mark McGuire was on a tear with the homers, I was always ready to go home after the game was 2/3 over.
I feel a lot the same about pregnancy. The first trimester is exciting because it's new and sort of nerve-wracking (with the nausea and fear that things might not go exactly right). The second trimester feels pretty darn good--I don't feel like a moose yet, can still get around pretty easily, and don't expect the game (the pregnancy) to be over anytime soon. Now that I'm into the third trimester, I'm beginning to get really antsy. It's exactly the same way I feel when we're done singing at the ball game and Eddie has no intention of leaving until the last pitch has been thrown. I know there's a long time left until the ninth inning is over, but I'm getting eager for the game to be up. I'm big and grumpy and frumpy, and not really looking forward to the next 12 weeks. I know that it's best for the baby to stay inside and cook for a lot longer, but if I had been the one designing our bodies, I would have made the human gestation period six months instead of nine. The end of October still seems so far away!
I went to the doctor this morning, and everything looks good. I actually lost a little bit of weight over the last 2-1/2 weeks (I went the morning after we got back from our Michigan trip, and I was swollen with both extra fluid and a lot of yummy food. I'm still having white-coat hypertension in the office, but when Eddie takes my blood pressure at home it's always normal, so my doctor isn't concerned right now. It's just frustrating that I can't go see the doctor (who is a lovely person) without being in a total panic about what my blood pressure will do in the office. I always have bad dreams about it the night before. It's crazy, I know, but I'm really glad that we can prove that it's high because I'm nervous at the office and not high because it's really high.
On a more exciting note, we're leaving tomorrow morning for two weeks in Utah. It will be good to get my mind off of the whole hugely pregnant thing, which I tend to dwell on more when I'm home by myself with the kids all day. I probably won't write next week, since we'll be busy preparing for my brother-in-law's wedding (which will take place next Saturday).
I'll be checking in soon!