More than once I've had to grab the arm of my chair and breathe after being struck by lighting from the inside. It's weird and a little scary. Either the baby is pushing on a nerve, or we're pioneering some kind of fetus-administered intrauterine electroshock therapy here.
If I'm lucky, the jolts will do something for my mood. There are many colors in my emotional rainbow right now, and they change without warning. Most of the time, I'm prickly and wishing everyone would just leave me alone. Then I'm irritated about being so irritable.
And oh the Braxton Hicks contractions! They get meaner every day. If I'm on my feet for long stretches, it starts to feel like I have a bowling ball under my shirt. A bowling ball full of wolf eels.
What else? That whole thing about keeping my weight gain under 30 lbs. (or even 35 lbs.) this pregnancy? Straight down the drain. At 24 weeks, I'm up 20 lbs.
Twenty-four weeks huge.
(Rob insists, "But huge in a good way!")
Here's what happened: sleep went from basically fine to not-so-much a few weeks ago, and I have since replaced resting with eating. Handfuls of Brazil nuts, while delicious and healthful and chock full of selenium, are not low-calorie.
I'm trying not to let the weight-gain bother me. It's not exactly optional, after all. Westley continues to comment on my size often—usually loudly and in public—and I bite down hard and tell him, "It's just going to get bigger." I think I'm telling myself, too.
Complaining aside, I'm very glad that this little girl seems to be so strong and healthy. Every time I woke up last night to change positions, she was rolling and shimmying. She makes giant, sweeping, belly-warping gestures. I like to think it means she's happy in there. At one point I took Rob's hand under the covers and placed it on the most wiggly quadrant.
"Wow!" he exclaimed. "Westley never jabbed that hard!"
I knew my children would never be completely alike. But I'm amazed by just how different this baby is from her big brother, and she's not even here yet. Except that she's totally here, in the middle of the night, when I want to call the cops on the party in my tummy. Quiet down! Some of us have to work in the morning!
But much like my ever-expanding body, not sleeping through the night is only going to get worse before it gets better.