Fruit During Pregnancy

In every pregnancy book or website I have ever seen (when I used to look at them), a baby's growth is always compared to a piece of fruit. So far we have progressed from grape, to kumquat, through small navel oranges, pears and apple. It's a funny convention that seems universal. I got this postcard in the mail from my friend Krista, honoring Pepps' 15 weeks of existence:



Our sources said that Peppermint, at week 15, was the size of a small apple, but this postcard says mango. Either way, it was such a lovely surprise to see that outside of the myopic world of pregnant families who log onto the babycenter.com or other sites there are sources in the "real world" that subscribe to the theory that babies in utero development can be measured by comparison to fruit.

And today we are at 16 weeks and I am waiting to get my weekly check-in that will tell me which part of the produce aisles is living in my womb this week. Other fun developments include shortness of breath (thanks to the progesterone), feeling faint (thanks to the increased blood volume), and more weepiness than previously. Just ask Jeff how I reacted when he gently suggested that he would like a wee bit more help around the house. Certainly a valid and reasonable request, since I have done nothing except get up and go to work and schelp back to the couch as soon as possible for about 16 weeks and counting. I, however, fully loaded to the brim with hormones coursing through my entire being, heard the request as a condemnation of me as a wife, a roommate, and of course, a mother. Is it ever too soon to start feeling like a bad mother? I want to be well-versed in guilt and shame before the Peppermint comes out so I will have a good routine ready to roll out.

I have always been precocious.

And, sixteen weeks. Two weeks into the trimester that is supposed to be the most enjoyable. I am sleeping really well, despite my high level of anxiety related to the economy, job security, health of the baby, etc. I do feel better and that fog of nausea has mostly lifted so long as I continue to eat regularly and avoid situations that would put me face-to-face with people whose hygeine is questionable. It's really energizing not to labor through life with a case of the "I may throw ups," but I admit I am a little wistful about the passage of time. I will never have my first trimester with Pepps again. I will never have my first trimester of my very first pregnancy again. I may never actually have morning sickness again. I am grateful it's moving quickly in some ways because I am dying to meet Peppermint and start our out-of-womb life together, but also, if time moves quickly now and I am sad about letting go of vomiting and supreme exhaustion, how will I feel when Pepps starts walking or stops breast feeding or goes to school for a full day for the first time. Just thinking about it makes me cry. It's the highest class problem I have ever had and the most gratifying tears I have ever shed.