22 Weeks

The belly has fully popped. I douse it daily with a toxic-free oil to help it grow comfortably and as attractively as possible. The linea negra--the long dark line that is caused by hormones now extends from way down there to all the way up here, above my belly button. The top of my uterus is now also above my belly button. My midwife showed me how to find it with my fingers yesterday. Feeling internal organs with your hands...yet another strange life adventure in pregnancy! Some days I feel like I'm just wading in time, waiting for my belly button to protrude through my tops. It's like--this is what today is--waiting for that belly button. It's gonna be next level, that belly button pop.

Getting up is slower than before, I use my hands for a little leverage, and my balance is long gone. I'm even clumsier than I was before. I'm also at that stage where people just want to do things for me. Sometimes it feels silly, I do still have arm muscles. But other times, it's really kind and sweet. Especially when my husband insists on doing these things. I have to admit that I do like that. :)

The baby kicks constantly, so much so that I have figured out her schedule. She's very active from about 4 am to 5 am. If I can sleep through the 4 am barrier, I'm thrilled. Otherwise, if I wake up, I'm awake with her. She is also very active in the mornings at about 9 am. And then again in early afternoon and in the early evenings. She typically kicks at night when prompted by my eating a sweet dessert. She reacts to my meals, to loud sounds, to my touch. It's incredible. I can feel her on the outside at least once daily, though she has sneakily thwarted all of my attempts to have her Dad feel her kicking. As soon as his hand is on my belly, she gets quiet. The little bugger! At this point, we can only assume he has a soothing touch. I'd vouch for that.

Because I will now be delivering at CHOP, my husband and I had to say farewell to the midwife practice I was visiting monthly. We were sad to see them go, but we already agreed that next time maybe we'll get to stick with them through the whole pregnancy. I will now have hand-in-hand ultrasounds and prenatal care visits at CHOP. Luckily, I will still get to meet with midwives but it'll be on the same day that I meet with docs, sonographers, surgeons, maybe some radiologists, MRI technicians, nurse managers, you name 'em, I got 'em. It's a big team, but I like it that way. I feel like it's a group of folks who are invested in making sure Little comes out safely and that I don't go loco in the process. As long as someone asks how I'm emotionally feeling, they can poke and prod all they want. And, as it seems, that's the CHOP style--they looked us in the eyes a lot, answered all our questions, spent a lot of time with us, laughed with us, and said sorry and other understanding, supportive things that we needed too. I am pretty jaded by the health system and I feel many docs these days are content to type what you say into a computer, write a prescription, and walk out the door but our experience at CHOP was different. SO, if this is something that we have to do, thank goodness it's with good people who are patient and caring and extremely smart and skilled. We three are lucky. Little deserves it though, if you ask me. Heck, I'd throw a manicurist into the team if she indicated she wanted one.

My partnership with my husband somehow feels like it's at an even newer level. I mean, sitting down talking about your future child is already intense. But having conversations like the ones we had to have over the past couple weeks was altogether mind-altering. During that week of unknowns, the only person I wanted to spend all of my time with was my husband. He was so patient, and we were sharing this sadness and scariness together. He was the only person who could feel exactly what I felt, and how often do we find ourselves in troubling times where we can identify even one other person who can so purely empathize? But for us to do this together, and have challenging thoughts and worries, paired with such necessary hugs and grasps, it made it much easier to tolerate. None of it was anything that we wanted, but we are a team now in a way that I felt like I couldn't really imagine. You don't picture yourself looking at your husband's eyes, talking about potentially losing a child you've carried for five months that's not yet born. You know it's a possibility, a life event that exists out there that people sadly must endure, but you just can't picture yourself doing it, actually having that conversation, and actually looking into his eyes, feeling so hurt because he's hurting, and the heartache of your own pain simultaneously. It's very intense, I hope we never have it quite that way again, but it reinforced for me, this is the perfect person for me because I feel like I can wake up and move around and live because I have this. Geez, I know I'm getting deep here, but I feel like it's yet another piece of a new me that wasn't here before. And it's connected to Nico forever.

Despite all of this, I'm back on track in terms of my anticipation and excitement. I feel very confident and happy and even comfortable learning about our new road ahead. My dreams have changed--they're a bit more scary generally-speaking, and all of the cute furry animals that used to show up in my past dreams now look different. Some of them are missing an eye, or walking with only three legs. In my dreams, though, I am not scared by them, by how they look, nor do I feel worried for them. I just hug them and hold them and I want to care for them. It's a whole new dream world from only a few weeks ago, but I think it shows how my unconscious mind is slowly returning to where my renewed positive thinking currently resides. It's okay, I will be patient. I'll let my dreamworld catch up to where we are now, and the good news we have to work with.

Little is being patient too, I can tell. I swear she kicks when I have moments of worry, when I feel she has been quiet for too long, and it is simply the best medicine.