I weighed myself at my chiropractor’s office earlier this week, and there is a discrepancy between her scale and the midwife’s scale. At my last midwife visit two weeks ago, I weighed 123 lbs, and at the chiropractor two days ago, I weighed 129.5 lbs (for reference, I was roughly 103 lbs before becoming pregnant). Now, we know I didn’t gain 6.5 lbs in less than two weeks, but this means it’s possible that I’m not nearly as bad as off as we thought in terms of my overall weight gain. The lack of weight gain between my last two midwife visits is still an issue, but it might not be as big of an issue as we thought. I’ll be curious to see what Michele’s scale says at my check up tomorrow, especially since I’m more inclined to believe the chiropractor’s balance beam scale over Michele’s sleek little digital scale.
We’ve been having cool weather at night for the past three days or so, and I LOVE it. I am not the kind of person who runs hot, but pregnancy has turned me into a little furnace. I am hot all the time. I don’t bother to stuff a light sweater or scarf in my purse when I go out anymore. I keep the fans on high and the a/c set so low that Brian gets cold. I sit around with ice packs on neck and back, or take one with me to bed. I put ice in my water, which is something I’ve never done in my life. Yesterday I went through an entire tray of ice cubes! It’s weird. Sometimes I feel like I am a completely different person, not necessarily because I am pregnant, but because the experience of being myself often feels totally new in so many ways. Even though I’ve been pregnant for so long now that I’m used to it, I still have these moments when I feel like I am in someone else’s body, or like I am outside myself just observing and it’s like, who is that? ’cause that is not me.
Not much else to report on, pregnancy-wise. I’m doing my darndest to truck through my pre-baby to-do list and am making some progress, albeit more slowly than I’d like. I have more and more of those moments when I catch my reflection in the mirror and am like, DAMN, that is a seriously pregnant woman (yeah, I know I need to post some pictures). Mostly, I’m just really enjoying where I’m at right now. People ask me if I’m ready to go (or “pop,” which is for some reason a favorite word for many), and the answer is decidedly negative. If the babe wants to come now, that’s fine by me, but I’m not so miserable or anxious that I just can’t wait to get him on the outside of my body. Of course I am excited, but I’m happy with the way things are right now and am content to just keep taking things a day at a time.