My first pregnancy was filled with awe. Anticipation. Excitement. Heck, you remember, don't you? I blogged about it daily! Check my archives! Check my word cloud! Everything, and I mean everything, was tracked, honed, and written down. It was all I could to not think about it.
How did I become so unaware? How have I not really talked about it until now??
It's comforting to know, though, that when I actually do recognize I'm pregnant in those moments, I'm beyond thrilled. I can't seem to stop smiling. I can't wait to be a mommy of two! Until...Annaleigh turns the corner holding the cat's poo.
And I'm taken directly back to my 'preggo-coma'-like-state.
After Annaleigh is dealt with, hosed down, and redirected, I remember again. 17 weeks. I cannot believe I am 17 weeks...pregnant. It seems like it was only yesterday we found out. I told a friend recently that I surprise myself to know I've already made it up and out of my 1st trimester. Did that even happen? I didn't even have time to think about how sick I was. And I was. And tired. (I still am. Tired, that is.) I also told her, maybe that means the rest will fly by, too. One can only hope. Not that I don't enjoy being pregnant. I'm just impatient. If I don't have time to bask in the glow of knowing I'm pregnant, then I just want my baby. That sounds so bad, doesn't it??
Oh great. Now Annaleigh is entertaining herself with a fun game of 'toilet-paper shredding'. Seriously?! One more mess of hers to go clean up. Perfect.
Wait. I'm what?....