Sitting here on the brink of halfway done, and I thought it was time to come clean with some photo evidence of this baby’s existence.
First, let the record show, taking pictures of yourself while pregnant is a bad idea. Unless it’s your first child, and you’ve hired someone to follow you and your husband into a field whilst the two of you clasp hands over your burgeoning belly and gaze into the future. I did that. I get that. But damn if it isn’t all kinds of embarrassing now. Joey, self-absorbed firstborn that he is, loves those images of ‘baby Joey in Mommy’s tummy right there’ so…I guess it was worth preserving for posterity? And we never took engagement photos, so you might say we were overdue for a little shame of the self-absorbed variety. Ba dum ching.
Anywho, fast forward three years and three closely-spaced pregnancies to now, and my body definitely bears evidence of having been stretched and snapped and streeeeetched and not-quite-snapped back. Multiple times. So I apologize if these images are scarring. They are to me.
toddler tilt with a Blanqi sneak peak
Buttoned-up mug shot
So I bit the big, fat, nearly $70 bullet this time around and sprang for a Blanqi, because I’ve read great reviews and because one of the creator’s sisters (thanks, Annie) went to my alma mater and because, well, I was pregnant in a foreign country and figured I had money to burn, being as there was no guarantee I’d be able to shell out for an epidural or a hospital gown. So. No regrets. Not really.
This is the first week I’ve really worn it and my thoughts so far are … mixed. Most of the perceived ‘flaws’ are probably my fault: I ordered a size large ‘extra long’ in black. So…I can’t imagine why it isn’t supremely comfortable in this balmy 89 degree 110% humid Roman summer.
But, I rationalized to my newly-pregnant internet-shopping-happy self I’ll be pregnant in the wintertime and we don’t have a car, so black will be warmer. And more slimming. And I’d read multiple reviews warning to ‘size up’ for when your belly gets big. As for insisting I needed extra length for my 5’5″ miniature torso? I don’t know, maybe I was drinking. But one thing I hate hate hate about maternity wear is the dreaded belly creep. Whether the fabric starts migrating up or down, I can’t stand the end result. So I panicked and thus, made sure that my entire frame would be covered from shoulder to well-below-booty. Anyway, it is rather slimming. And it does feel great to work out in. At least I surmise that it will. Technically I haven’t worked out in 3 months…but that’s about to change. Today.
I’m declaring a moratorium on ‘vacation eating’ and basically breakfast carbs in general. The Italian lifestyle is no longer working in my favor, probably because I’ve cut down my daily walking to roughly 3 square blocks orbiting our apartment building, and instead of pushing my 100 lbs of toddler across cobblestoned streets for hours every day, they run around clad in diapers (or less) only and frolic under one of our two AC units for hours…and hours on end. And I lie on the couch and re-watch Downton Abbey teach a homeschool unit on pre-and-post WWI Britain.
Would you believe me if I told you my cappuccino habit were catching up with me? Or perhaps it’s the recent obsession with salami milanese. Yes, probably that. Whichever the culprit, the weight gain is a-creepin, and it’s high time to reconcile with Jillian. Or this site. Or maybe just the possibility of limiting my diet to things that don’t list ‘salt’ or ‘Nutella’ as a primary ingredient.
All and all, I’m feeling pretty good. I can still sleep however I want, which feels oddly liberating. Maybe I am carrying much differently? Or maybe I am sufficiently ‘padded’ to not feel acutely as if I am crushing baby while not-quite-but-almost lying on my stomach at night. Whatev.
I think I’ve gained around 9 lbs – maybe 10, I don’t do kilos well – at this point. But it’s all in my love handles and upper arms. Maybe a tiny bit in the appropriate abdominal region. (Thanks, Viking genes. Or whatever heritage dooms me to crushing canons for guns and the ability to lift twice my weight in offspring and groceries.)
I am just starting to feel baby move every now and then, which is a huge relief and it will be really nice to move on to googling other potential problems now. I’m sure I’ll think of some.
I’m craving saaaaaalt, salt, and more salt. Pre-popped pop corn, salami and some-fancy-central-Italian-hard-cheese-on-pizza-bianca sandwiches, regular Coke (hangs head in shame) and, oddly, cucumbers. Probably to sop all the water retention out of my poor, salt-addled body.
I’m desperate to get home the the dry, arid climate of Denver, where sweat is always purposely induced via exercise or exertion of some sort, and not the result of climbing one set of stairs. Or getting out of bed in the morning.
And, let’s be honest, I’m a teeny bit excited for Chipotle.
We leave August 13th, so technically, I think if I don’t count today or departure day, we’re looking at 11 big ones. But who’s counting?