I had a moment of panic this past week, not too long after publishing my 22-week post. I changed into my nightshirt in the bathroom, standing in front of a large mirror, and suddenly got a good look at my burgeoning belly. It's been growing rounder by the day- no surprise there- but that's all there was to see until now. Just some roundness. Suddenly, that day, it was "out there." I could see the definition and shape from head-on, and as I let my over-sized t-shirt fall back down over my abdomen, I could see a definite shape poking out from underneath. This was a drastic change from the usual disappearing act that had occurred when I dressed in such loose clothing up to this point; all that could be seen beneath the folds of fabric was the subtlest hint of the growing thickness that lay underneath. Not so that night.
And so it hit me- the "realness" of it all. The steady progress towards the inevitable end.
It always seems to work that way; it's a tortuous journey getting to the second trimester, and I spend so long catching my breath once I reach it, trying to feel normal again, that by the time I'm cognizant enough to appreciate that I'm in the "easy" stage, I'm on the precipice of leaving it again.
At least I had a clear moment of recognition then, a good five weeks before reaching that official transition into the third trimester. However, I suspect that things will start to get difficult again well before then. I'm already encountering the emergence of fun new symptoms, like pelvic pain and a tendency towards waddling.
My, my, but there has been some heartburn this week. Tums doesn't touch it, and Maalox merely takes the edge off. And I suspect that this is only the beginning.
Not that I put too much stock in wives' tales (though this particular one supposedly has some studies to back up the correlation), but I'm beginning to wonder if you're actually growing a nice thick head of hair in there.
I guess we'll have to wait and see.