Adjusting

I haven't mentioned my pregnancy here yet, mostly because for a while I didn't have a lot of positive things to say. That sounds terrible, I know, but I'm not going to feel guilty about it anymore. The first trimester sucked, and I earned the right to say that with endless exhaustion and queasiness and moodiness and overwhelming hunger every two hours. I have admitted to friends that my first reaction to the positive sign on the home test was not elation but terror. I was simply afraid--afraid of going through the physical process again, afraid of the prospect of handling two children, afraid of a changed relationship with my boy. And for the longest time it just didn't seem real. (Although gaining ten pounds in one month made it impossible to deny and outed me WAY too early to people I didn't care to inform so early on.) But recently I have felt the slightest movements (kind of like a little wriggling fish in my innards!), and that has helped hammer home the concept. Yep, this is really going to happen. But I still feel so much less connected to this baby than I felt to Mazin. How can there be a baby inside me when my baby is out in there in the world right in front of me, walking and talking and doing headstands? I just can't imagine another baby who isn't my Mazin. (And I'm sure he can't imagine sharing his momma with a sibling.) I didn't even cry when I saw the first ultrasound image--another thing I refuse to feel guilty about, even though it shocks me and makes me feel emotionally stilted. Well, somehow we'll get used to the idea--lots of people do. But it helps to have heard from other moms that my feeling this time around are not abnormal. It helps to know others have had this very different experience. Now I understand why people always ask, "Is it your first?" The first is very different, very special. I remember all the time I had to read pregnancy books and lay on the couch and take baths. I believe I took a bath almost every day. I have yet to take my first bath this time around. Instead, I'm perched on the bathroom stool watching Mazin take his bath. Sometimes I wonder if it would have been better to have only one, or to wait until much later to have our second. But my biological clock was ticking loudly and the term "geriatric pregnancy" looming large in my mind. And I have hopes that Mazin and this baby will grow up friends--at least most of the time.

So that's my inner world. I feel much better now, by the way. No more nausea and much (but not all) of my energy is back. I can even go a full five hours without eating, if need be! I can run around as a wedding photographer for eight hours straight without a break! (Not that I particularly enjoy it--but the point is, I can do it!) I've reached a plateau with my belly size--it seems to have stopped ballooning so alarmingly fast. We're coasting now, coasting through the second trimester.

Meanwhile, as I mentioned, Mazin is doing headstands. One of his favorite things to do is turn on the keyboard in his room (the one that plays prerecorded tunes on an endless loop), turn the volume to max, and do headstands and somersaults in an equally endless succession. In my first trimester, it was exhausting just to watch him. Now at least I can cheer him on and observe enthusiastically when he commands me to "watch, mama!" This kid has so much energy it is unbelievable. Last night we had one of those magical evenings I know I will always remember. Perfect summer evening with not too many annoying bugs and a lovely light breeze. After dinner we played outside. Dada kicked the ball up in the air over and over, and even hit the roof once. This delighted Mazin. Then we discovered the ridiculously fun game of chasing the chickens with the water gun. (They started it by getting into my perennials.) Mazin was the sheriff, rousting them out of the forbidden garden beds and pursuing them across the yard. He eventually decided he would be much more effective naked, and shucked all his clothes. We sprayed him down good with bug stuff and he carried on. I think this went on for about an hour, until it was time for a bath. He had no trouble falling asleep.