20 Weeks - Halfway

On Saturday, I will officially be halfway through my pregnancy. Wow, time flies when you're having fun! (Readers beware, I'm in a silly happy mood today.)

These days, I'm still enjoying the second trimester high. I find myself awake at midnight every now and then. I've been busy every evening this week visiting with pals, eating at new restaurants, doing fun activities, and right now I feel just fine. This is a whole new pregnant woman, people!

The belly is definitely growing. Last week was the belly bump's true coming out party at work. I wore one of my first non-empire waist flowy tops and the belly made a darling debut. Now many of my colleagues know that I'm expecting, and I won't have to sweat too many awkward conversations about why my plans seem to stop abruptly at the end of April.

Thanks to the winter coat (it looks like a big trash bag, wah), the outside public is still clueless. But folks at the gym have noticed too. I got some serious stares when I headed up to the weight room last week. I usually stick to my work out classes, you see, and those folks have known for a while, but I've had to cut out two of my regular classes because they aren't pregnant-friendly. So when I headed up to the weight machines, it felt like I had clown make-up on. Folks were staring! Yes, it's true...you don't see a lot of pregnant women at the gym. It's too bad, exercise is so good for us. Despite that, people have a lot of misconceptions about what exercise is acceptable and I'm sure that adding a pregnant woman to the weight-liftin' humanozone was a bit taboo. Anyway, I came within seconds of asking one lady: What are you lookin' at? but I controlled myself. It was good anyway, because I had to negotiate with her for one of the arms machines five minutes later. But it was hard, I tell ya, real hard. In any case, I feel like I'm modifying my exercise very well: no more big jumping (I do the seniors version of the jumping jack--it's kind of cute), no more laying on my back, no more ultra balance work where I could fall. It's pretty simple, and my instructors have been good at giving me ideas when I need them. Last night, I went to a spinning class with an MJ-only soundtrack. I felt awesome. And, in those moments, when the exercise is hurting in that good way, I think to myself: YOU CAN HANDLE LABOR, MANDA! SEE! And the proof is in the pudding, far as I'm concerned.

Oh and my dreams, these precious dreams. They are ALL about babies, children, rescuing children, small animals, rescuing small animals, and, yes, even impersonating children. I dreamt a few nights ago that my pal Kayshin and I were in a performance of Charlie Brown. She was Charlie Brown. Right before we went on stage, I exclaimed to her that I was so afraid, I didn't know my lines, what would I do?! And she said, it's okay, just do this: and dipped her hands into a bowl of melted chocolate and mushed it all over my face. And she mushed it on her face. And we went on stage, talked like little children, with chocolate on our faces, and the crowd loved us. Suzy also ran up on stage during the play and said that the IT Helpdesk was shut down (yep, strange), but then apologized for interrupting us and we continued in our child-like performance. It was a joyous dream! Chocolate on our faces! Giggleworthy. I dream that all of you have children, and sometimes, they come out as little animals, but we love and play with them nonetheless. My dreamworld is a pretty happy, fantastical place.

And, boy, does this baby move. As of literally this week, I feel the baby move everyday. He or she throws bubbles and flips and turns and all kinds of things. Sometimes, baby moves for like two hours straight. Other times, I can only sense a move and then quiet. For the first time, I felt the baby moving from the outside. How exciting. In no time, I'll be cell phone videotaping Little's Spaceballs alien dance from within my belly. Creeeepy, and wonderful!

And now, I turn to Little. Dearest Little, tomorrow I learn your sex (yep, ultrasound number two has arrived). As long as you cooperate, of course. No matter what you are, and how I've imagined you and dreamed you (as a kitten, puppy, and butterfly with a boy's head), I will love you. It will be a most wonderful surprise, one of those few surprises you can anticipate and feel excited about, but it's a shocking, jaw-stretching surprise nonetheless. You see, Little, everything is very different from what I might have imagined very long ago. I used to talk about having you all to myself, no daddy in sight, and you were of course always a girl. You and I were going to rebel, take over world authority, and plant trees and imprison bad men and alternatingly read Simone de Beauvoir and Michelle Tea. But, guess what, Little, there's a daddy! Surprise! Ha, got you too! He has become, somehow, an even more wonderful husband than I could imagine (oh boy, tearing up now), and the things that he and I talk about and think about now feel much more deep and surreal than the imaginary moments you and I would achieve on our own. So, it's an even better arrangement. And, suppose, just suppose, that you are a boy. Well, that would really turn that whole vision on its feet. But I have no doubt that you'll be more feminist and overall, just more wonderful, that the imaginary girl I raised long ago. I cannot wait to learn what you are because either way it will be the best gift of the season, a moment that'll stay with me forever. I'll try to keep it frozen in my heart and mind when I hear the word. So, in advance, Little, thank you very, very much. You've already made life grand.

AND, you breathe water. You are SO awesome.