I’m wearing a maternity top today that emphasizes the belly and it caused me to double take as I walked by a mirror this morning. I look PREGNANT. Practically-ready-to-give-birth pregnant. Out of curiosity, I compared it to the belly shots from my first pregnancy and determined I look about the same now (6 months prego) as I did when 8 months pregnant last time (in the same shirt). If not a little bigger. Plus, I seem to grow all day, so by evening, it looks like I’m sporting the same belly I had when I waddled into labor & delivery at 39 weeks pregnant. It’s not that this is surprising or anything – I know this is totally normal second-pregnancy territory – but it still freaks me out. When did I get so hugely pregnant? How enormous will I be at 9 months? Will I even be able to carry this belly around for three more months? Thankfully, it doesn’t quite yet feel like I’m 9 months pregnant – I don’t have that feeling like I’m all baby – but you can see arms and legs randomly poking out of my midsection.
In other not-surprising news, it seems the bigger my belly gets, the smaller my brain gets. I’ve caught myself absentmindedly putting my hand inside my shirt and scratching my boobs, which are rather itchy, THREE TIMES today while sitting across the table from a male co-worker. Whom I met for the first time this morning. Plus, mid-afternoon someone called from the main office (we were at a client’s) asking for “Ryan,” when all day I thought I was working with a “Justin.” Turns out I was wrong. I spent the rest of the afternoon not getting much done because I was concentrating on “don’t scratch boobs” and “I thought his name was Ryan, but it’s actually Justin, no wait, it’s the other way around, isn’t it?” I sincerely hope none of the other new people ask him about me because I can’t imagine he’s going to describe me as an awesome co-worker. Oops.