Tag Archives: Pregnancy

How big is my baby? (15 weeks)

apples and oranges

I’ve been following a bunch of sites that are supposed to help me understand how big my growing baby is. It’s not that it really matters – he or she is stuck inside me for a while still. But it’s nice to visualize and it adds some kind of continuity to the experience. However, the internet sucks and the comparisons just don’t work for me.

At the moment, I’m about 15 weeks into my pregnancy. Depending on which site I frequent, that means they are telling me the little leech is approximately the size of an apple, or a navel orange. But this is like a Platonic reality question – if I say apple to ten different people, they will probably visualize completely different apples.

So, I decided to use the actual measurements that they give, which is that the munchkin is approximately four inches (10 cm). Ever the investigator, I decided to find things in my home that are four inches. And I found the perfect example.

grunt

This is Grunt, one of my favorite characters from the Mass Effect trilogy. He’s a Krogan, one of my favorite races, and when I saw this Funko Pop Vinyl figure I had to buy it. Like most Funko Pop Vinyl figures, he measures about 4″ tall and has an oversized head, much like the creature growing inside me.

So this is how I’m visualizing my growing spawnling for the next week or so. It’s Grunt, and I love Grunt, so I love my little Krogan. In fact, it probably looks just as fish-like and weird at the moment, and it feels like I have an alien inside me some days, so it seems quite fitting. At least now I don’t have to think of him/her as a piece of fruit, dangling off a vine inside me.

grunt 1

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Pregnancy and “missing out”

gamescom

I can handle anything for a set period of time. At least, that’s what I like to tell myself. Certain situations or activities might be unpleasant, but as long as I have a clear start and end point, I can usually psyche myself up to be able to get through it all. But pregnancy and its child-filled aftermath is a bit different.

I don’t worry about missing out on most things. I’ve lived such a full life already, it’s not like I’m worried about missing the next great concert, or a night out partying – I’ve had enough drunken adventures not to feel sad about not drinking for a next few months. Well, mostly – it is still hard going out for drinks and not being able to have a glass of wine or a gin and tonic. I don’t need to get drunk or even tipsy, but it’d be nice to have my usual drinks of choice.

At the moment, there’s something even bigger that I’ve realized I’m missing out on, and it won’t end once the little munchkin is born. This week, two of my colleagues are in Germany for Gamescom, one of the largest and most fun gaming conventions in the world. Last year, I was there. I’m already lucky that I was able to attend E3 this year (despite doing so while 8 weeks pregnant) – it’s like gaming Mecca and I’m so lucky to even go to one such event in a year, let alone two like I did last year. In fact, last year I was able to travel overseas four times for work. It was fantastic and exhilarating and I loved the joy of being flown around the world to play games.

I was away this year for seven weeks, right at the start of my pregnancy. It was far too long a trip, but it had to be done – I was looking after my mom following major surgery, and also managed to attend a Pre-E3 event as well as the full week of E3. It seems that this will be my last solo trip anywhere for a long time. I won’t be traveling internationally while pregnant, and then I will have a baby on my boob and won’t really be able to go out for more than an evening on my own.

And thus, it hit me. International travel is out. Hell, even a lunch out alone with friends or a date night is going to take a ton of planning. I’m sure it will be worthwhile; I’m not having a kid so that I can avoid being with him/her all the time. But it just struck me that for the next… two years let’s say, I will be chained to the house. I will be happy there, maybe, and enjoy my time with the kid, and maybe even travel with the baby to someplace local, but I won’t be galavanting off to the States or Europe for a few days or a week.

It’s not missing out. Not really. I’ll be having a whole bunch of other experiences that I couldn’t have had otherwise. And I’m sure when I’m eventually able to go overseas alone again, I will be so sad to miss out on bedtimes and day to day loveliness with my little one. Still, it’s going to take a lot of getting used to. No more quick and casual decisions to meet up for lunches. No more last minute decisions to go out for dinner with the hubster. And no more jumping at the chance to fly off to an unknown location to play a top secret game. Here’s to E3/Gamescom 2017, right?

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Coming out of the pregnancy closet

closet doors

It is weird keeping something as big as a new human being a secret. It takes up so much space in the imagination – from when I went off the pill and we were officially “trying” until it happened and then even after that when we were waiting for the doctor to give us a thumbs up. It was a massive secret for such a tiny being, and it was strange to decide which people should be in on the secret vs those who should wait until the big reveal.

Who do you tell, and how, and when? We told very few people that I was going off the pill. Of course I had the “pleasure” of thinking I was knocked up while traveling overseas. I waited for Dean to make it to America and then I peed on a stick and realized that yes, yes it was real. So, who do we tell then and who do we tell after I’m back home and have gone to see the doctor to know it’s really real? And then how long do we wait for the official announcement.

I always remembered women would wait until 12 weeks because the first trimester is rife with early miscarriages. I’ve even known women who announced and then had to un-announce after miscarriages. It’s more common than anyone would want, and I didn’t want to be in that situation. Additionally, thanks to fears about any possible birth defects or issues, we didn’t want to tell people in case the pregnancy had to be aborted – nothing like being in that situation and then having to be public about it because you’ve already gone public with the good news.

So, we waited for what felt like forever. And now the cat is out of the bag and it’s weird to see I keep telling people. My cleaning lady, the bartender in our usual watering hole, random ladies when I’m waiting in queues. It’s so strange though – it went from feeling like part of a secret circle to now sharing it with the whole world.

Similarly strange is the fact that I can no longer be offended when people ask when I’m due. It was also my terror; as a curvy woman, I was blessed with awesome boobs and butt, but that also meant that my stomach sometimes protruded, making people think I was already pregnant. This led to numerous tearful encounters, but now I’m showing because I really am pregnant – I’m not really allowed to be offended, although I do still think it’s a ridiculous question that no one should ask regardless of their breeding status.

So now that I’m telling everyone, it’s feeling even more real, and I’m finally realizing the range of emotions that I’m feeling. I know a lot of it is hormones, but geez, I seem to oscillate between excitement and terror on an hourly basis. I suppose that’s normal. Also, who knew how many strangers felt entitled to give you advice or pass judgement until you get pregnant – I didn’t realize that the whole world thought they knew everything better than me…

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