Manwich

Ah pregnancy. It's a miracle. I've waded through the three months of feeling queasy and anxious. Now we are in the sweetspot of cravings and flavor sensations. Only this guy is throwing me some curveballs. I don't recall having headaches with prior pregnancies, or craving CHEESEBURGERS every single day. I am comforted only slightly by a friend's tale that a vegetarian amiga of hers had to give it up and succumb to the beastly cravings during her pregnancy. Here I thought this would be my healthy, amazingly natural SoCal pregnancy. I pictured myself relishing every bite of a mound of vegetables. Ha! Nothing like motherhood to remind you you DON'T control everything. So here he is, growing like a little meat-eating manly man inside me and rapidly taking my hard-earned jogging frame to something much more Rubenesque. Eh, well, I am rolling with it.

This trimester will not be focused on daily updates from baby center on how my little munchkin is growing, nor am I sitting in front of A Baby Story watching other families' dramas unfold. We've been down this road and this time feels like a much faster, easy ride. We're already in week 16. I've got 25 baby chicks, 3 children, 3 dogs, 5 horses and 13 hens to keep me on my feet, a home expansion underway (dude needs a room) and a very busy, hard working husband I hope to see occasionally.

I plan to have a hospital birth with minimal intervention. I will hire a doula to attend the birth. After a somewhat "precipitous labor" with Evelyn, I'll need someone on my side if the baby comes out like a freight train. Al will be there, of course, but I distinctly recall the look of helplessness on his face as I turned to him and said, "HELP ME!" during the last 5 minutes of my last labor. Poor guy looked at me, sweaty-lipped and completely unable to do anything, which is so far from his normal at-the-helm demeanor. I hope a doula can give us all a little more confidence and guidance, or at least run and fetch me a cheeseburger.