I have been quiet here for a while. There is a lot going on in my little nook of the world. I've hesitated being public about the biggest thing because I have unnatural fears of jinx.
After some of the most horrible losses on the Earth, I am cautiously, wildly excited to be pregnant again. Some precious few knew this was in the works. Some more chosen knew when it occurred. Then, I spilled the beans by accident about a week ago. I figure it's time to just put it out there.
If my body, science, God and the universe allow, then little baby Sanders will arrive late next Winter. I realized tonight when my husband was laughing at the pregnant woman farts that it was time to be real.
Pregnant women fart. It's not pretty and if they take fish oil like I do, it's not sweet either. My body is changing so incredibly quick this time. The girls have decided they need to be more noticeable. I've also developed the unnatural ability to float an armada of Spanish galleons if necessary due to hideous amounts of excess fluid. I am so damn tired that when I wake up, I'm wondering when I can nap. I had forgot the depth of this exhaustion. As a couple of people have *kindly* pointed out, I'm older this time so it's probably worse because of that. Olivia's dad says, "well it's been 10 years". No, dumb ass, it's been 13 since I was pregnant with YOUR daughter.
The fact that I openly called him a dumb ass brings me to the biggest Ugly of pregnancy: the moodiness. Some days, I'm so crabby I can't stand myself. Sometimes, I don't recognize it until I've snapped at someone. If you're one of them, I wholeheartedly and deeply apologize.
I've seen my little peanut once. I'll see her again in 9 days. For some reason, saying "him" sounds wrong. Only time will tell if I'm crazy on that one. So, keep your fingers crossed, prayers going, and wishes coming that this little tadpole stays just where it is for another 30-33 weeks and grows into a healthy, strong, smallish baby. I'd rather not push out a 9 lb-er.