Time is ticking by. I feel fine, overall. As I described it to my best friend (who had two fairly easy pregnancies), if on a scale from 0 – 100, 0 being the worst stomach flu or illness of your life and 100 being your absolute best, rested, healthiest day, I maintain a pretty even 92. I have enough faint symptoms to assure me that something is happening, but not enough to complain about. I’m often hungry, pretty tired in the afternoon and at 8:30 p.m., and I regularly feel sluggish at the gym at 5:30 in the morning. I catch scents that make me curl my nose and once or twice a day the idea of eating sounds awful, but I still haven’t been sick (knock on wood).
I think I’ve gained 1.5 pounds in 8 weeks, which surprises me. I figured that by cutting out the calories from alcohol, skipping the syrups from pumpkin spice lattes and peppermint mochas, and continuing to exercise, I would maintain my weight through the first trimester. I guess that by easing off the workouts (intensity, not frequency), I’m not burning as many calories as I used to. I’m aiming to hold steady for the next four weeks by cutting out sweets (except for on Christmas) and limiting refined carbs.
Baby is the size of a kidney bean, which is mind-blowing to me. I know it seems mundane to others, but I cannot believe he or she is a tangible, growing, living being. It’s really bizarre to have a mystery person inside you.
That being said, I curiously LOVE the kidney bean. I am not a very emotive person, but I have this strange, consuming, spontaneous love for it. I don’t understand it. For example, as I was driving along the other day, I wondered about the baby’s hair color. My wife and I both have brown hair, and the donor has blonde hair. I speculated that this baby is going to have light hair, and I pondered how our future family photos might look different if we’d used a donor with a dark complexion. I felt a sudden jolt of betrayal out of nowhere, feeling instant guilt for even considering that this little kidney bean wasn’t exactly what I had hoped and prayed for. And that jolt blew me away. I recognized that he or she has an identity, and it was the one I was going to love and care for the rest of my life. There was never going to be a reconsideration of donors, as we have had the luxury of doing for the past two years. This kidney bean is what we got, and I love it.
I’ve been having really strange, intense dreams, which I think is still a product of the progesterone. They are really strange. Two or three times I have dreamed that baby is a boy. In one of the dreams we had the baby, but then we realized that the hospital had switched out a doll for the real baby. I was clearly in a panic. I don’t know how it resolved, but I vividly remember a battery pack/speaker on the back of the doll. Not all of the dreams are about babies, but it’s quickly becoming a trend.
Not much else to report. We haven’t told anyone else about it, yet, and I think we’re going to hold out for a couple more weeks. I’m feeling relatively confident that everything is fine, but I am also feeling relaxed about keeping this information close for the time being.