I am five weeks along in my pregnancy, or something of the sort. Supposedly, my due date is Feb. 11. We'll see, babies have a way of doing unexpected things. This child will make me a mother of a newborn again at 36, less than a month away from 37. Somehow, for utterly no rational reason, that makes me feel better.
I find myself much more relaxed with this second child. With Mr. P, I constantly had my nose buried in "What to Expect When You're Expecting" and stressed out over every possible thing that could go wrong. Oh my god, I ate babybel cheese, was that considered soft cheese? Had I just doomed my child? Did my sister unknowingly serve me cold cuts? The end of the world was at hand! The list went on and on.
This time, while I wouldn't say my attitude is "eh," I am certainly not tying myself into knots. Which is rather refreshing, really. I'm just going to show up at my appointments and just sort of let it flow. I am a blessed pregnant woman, who last time didn't have swollen anything, and never had a second's worth of morning sickness. I glowed rather disgustingly. Only one time do I remember having a strong feeling of nausea at a smell, but that was short lived. I didn't even have to bear that uncomfortable third trimester, because Mr. P was breech, so I didn't have a head pushing down on a rather sensitive area. So far, no morning sickness this time either, so I'm guessing that it would have already arrived if it was coming.
Maybe I'd better stop and knock on some wood.
I'm guessing my parenting might be a bit different this time as well. When I first held Mr. P, I was deathly afraid that I would drop him. I didn't know what to DO with him, if you know what I mean. I could not bear to bathe him, Hubba-hubba had to do it until I was more comfortable. I took forever to trim his nails for fear I would cut him, resulting in some nice long scratches on his face. The first time the poor guy had, uh, some intestinal issues, I kept using wipes, not knowing they would irritate and cause a rash.
Poor little guy. I look back on those times and wonder how we both got through it. I still feel guilty for some of the things I did, not that they affected his life in some great manner, but just aghast at myself for my astounding lack of thought process.
From a very early stage, I knew that Mr. P was a boy. I don't know how or why, but my intuition said, quite loudly, "BOY!" I was right. This time, even though I really can't say that I have a preference, I am feeling a girl vibe.
Care to take any bets?
*Seriously, I'm starting a pool off to the side. The winner might get something. Wait, who am I kidding? I will have a newborn in the house! The winner will only get bragging rights!