Bun in the Oven - Second Trimester Blues

You know, this whole second trimester thing is just not really working for me. Everyone says it's supposed to be the best time, because you're done with morning sickness and aren't yet huge. But since I didn't have any morning sickness, now is when I'm being punished. Sleeping is soooo fun, let me tell you. And my nose is a lovely Rudolph-esque shade of red. My eyes are puffy, and I’m such a klutz. Also, I'm having eating issues. I can't eat nearly as much as I'm used to eating, and some foods give me gastric distress, although I can't really pinpoint which foods they are. I bet it’s the cheese. I may be lactose intolerant, though. And when I get hungry, I get immediately, urgently, feed me now or someone will pay hungry. There's little warning. So let me just say that I don't like it.

And I haven't been drinking or eating sushi.

I think everyone in my division basically knows now. I told my confidential news to the world’s worse confidant. I will not mention names because no harm has been done; I’m gonna get noticed one way or another. Truly, she was the most genuinely excited and supportive of all the people I’ve told. She’s a mother herself, so perhaps this will actually improve her attitude toward me in general. You know, I've never experienced such generosity in D.C. (and others too, of course) as I have since I've been telling people that I'm pregnant. People who also have kids bend over backwards to give helpful advice. For example, Erica (a friend of a friend), whom I’ve met for exactly two hours gave us four books that are useful for infant issues. One of my friends invited us over for bun rieu dinner and chatted about parenting and private school woes. She is expecting her third child in January. Another former colleague of mine gave us a used baby car seat. And another gave us a used baby swing, playpen, crib and a knitted blanket. This makes me feel more confident about having a baby, and having it in Washington D.C.

I am 24 weeks, and I fit in my regular clothes. I could feel Bugger moving, but I’m slightly worried because of the “slow” fetal development. Now, if only my Mom and Dad, would call me and ask how am I doing instead of the silent treatment.