For My Foxy Lady

My dear Foxy asked me a couple questions, and I thought they merited a response, as they are FANTASTIC questions!

"Are you loving every single second of walking around showing off your belly? I dream of having a belly to show off and would love to hear how it is for you."

I will admit to avoiding baggy shirts simply so I can show off the bump. I am also completely obsessed with my profile, meaning how I look from the side. We don't have any full-length mirrors at home, only the cabinet mirror in the bathroom. So at work, in the bathroom, I have been caught more than once admiring myself. LMAO.

I am starting to feel like I have my own orbit. I bump into things with the belly (ouch! with Pancho in there!); I look like a turtle on my back if I'm on MY back. I haven't had a random stranger rub the belly yet, but lots of friends. If not for Pancho, I would love it, but unfortunately, my belly is a walking bruise!

I want EVERYONE to see my belly. This is the only shot I get. I want to just shove it out there, in people's faces, and say "LOOK AT ME!" I want to be the only pregnant woman at work (unrealistic when 800 people work here!). I want everyone to acknowledge this miracle, and to know just how much "Congratulations" is really apropos. To that end, I talk about my pregnancy so much, probably too much. LOL.

The doctors this week thought I was in pain or cramping because I can't help having my hands on my bump, rubbing it, protecting my baby, hoping she can feel my love for her.


"Also, just wondering how/if you've had any thoughts during the pregnancy about the ds? Has the hubs mentioned it? or have you thought about it at all? just wondering..."

Ooooooh, this is a toughy. Our way of dealing with things is to crack jokes. For instance, when I am miserable and sick, DH says, "Blame it on the doc. He did it." I wanted to get a maternity shirt I saw (that would annoy the hell out of me if I saw someone in it, but kinda cracks me up all the same) that says, "Who's My Daddy?" It's in terribly poor taste, but we just thought it was hysterical.

In all seriousness, though, DH hasn't seemed bothered remotely about it. It may at some point. It was hard at first, and the baby is going to have his last name because it became important to him to have something of his be a part of him/her.

But at this point, I THINK, he is so excited about the baby that he has, for the most part, moved past it. When I have been in the hospital, he will ask, "When are my babies coming home?" It is so sweet it makes me weepy. He is so in love with his baby. He jokes, but in reality, he is so, so happy.

I have moments of sadness. Mainly when the talk of who Cricket looks like comes up. Or will look like. It hit me hard after our Anatomy Scan, when we were looking at the pictures and someone said to me, "Oh! She has your chin! Look!" I got so excited. And then in an instant, my heart fell as I realized we won't get to look for his features in our child. I won't see his kind eyes looking back at me...I think it's the eyes I most wanted to be his.

But much like Hubby, overall, I just LOVE our baby. Because Cricket IS our baby. Genetics be damned. We cried, and bled, and sweated, and gave up so much TOGETHER to make our little Cricket. That's what matters in the end.

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