I'm 23 weeks along now. Less than 4 months left. In the past 5.5 months, baby banjo has grown to weigh over a pound. In the next four weeks, he'll double in weight again. I went through a meatball phase, a pickle phase, a mango phase, a miso-soup-and-seaweed phase, a grapefruit phase, and a peanut butter phase. (One might observe that I may still be in the peanut butter phase.) I wouldn't exactly call them cravings, just a reasonable idea that such-and-such food would be delicious and I would probably be very happy if I could eat it. Every day for a few weeks, maybe. It didn't seem out of the ordinary.
I would say that when pregnant, for me, food is delightful though difficult to figure out and there is nothing better than being ravenous and then figuring out the exact thing I want to eat, and eating it. It is pure pleasure for the stomach. One of the things on our 20-week ultrasound which astounded me was the ivory puzzle of banjo's spine, and how all the random foods I had happily put into my mouth, like yogurt, glasses of milk, brocolli and almonds, had intricately transformed themselves into his perfect tiny bones.
(Might I add that, even though we know he's a boy now, do you think picking a name would come more easily? Nope, jury's still out on that one. It's all right. We have time. And a list.)
There is a lot of advice out there for pregnancy. Online, in books, and in the mouths of relatives, friends and strangers. I absorb what I feel drawn to, and let go what I don't. I try to remember that tim and I are making the choices that are right for our family, we reserve the right to change our minds, and that I don't need to convince anyone else or explain our decisions.
Even though I want to.
Tim is a lot more laidback about things than I am.
I wish I was a more peaceful person.
Sometimes it can be frustrating being pregnant. It is a different rhythm. One which my mind has not quite adjusted to yet. It still wants to rush, to push, to accomplish, to delve deep into the cares of the world and to fight for a proper place in it. Whereas, my body is asking me to slow down, to calm down, and to let things go. To let go of some of our things, our plans. Sometimes I feel like a slacker.
Just because a body begins to grow a child doesn't mean that everything in the mind falls into line with that right away. Here I am, with everything ready, an accomplished fact which was a chosen action, and I'm still working on the balance of it. How do women do it the world over? The ones without a choice? Or a partner? Or a home?
For me, now, there is a dog to walk, a sunset to watch, a fire to build, laundry to fold, cookies to eat, a baby to laugh at while he kicks.