slow mornings

Since I've been pregnant, mornings seem to creep by at a snails pace. I'm always too tired and sick to do much of anything, so as a result Ellie watches episode after episode of whatever's on PBS (or, her "D's" as she lovingly refers to her Baby Einstein DVD collection). I'm 16 1/2 weeks along now, and even though I'm still sick, I can finally stomach a couple ounces of coffee in the morning, and it definitely seems to help shake the fogginess (which is only getting worse with the lovely December weather).

So here we are, Ellie snacking on whatever I can pull together for breakfast, me trying to focus my eyes on the morning news updates on the computer, the sound of a D in the background, and it's somehow just perfect. Luckily, she's gotten used to this, so doesn't protest too much. I keep telling myself "this too shall pass" and someday she'll no longer be watching the ungodly amount of television that she's been watching lately, but deep down, I wonder if that's actually true. Let's be real: my parenting life is only going to get more difficult before it gets any easier.

(Just paused to run to the bathroom, heaving. Came back to find Ellie drinking my lukewarm coffee straight out of my mug. Gross for both of us).

We've had a pretty stressful month around here, but I'm finally starting to slowly get into the holiday spirit. I figure this is the last year I can do totally bare bones minimal for El before she wakes up to the fact that Christmas is obviously all about presents, and more = better. For now, she's going to be content getting crayons, sippy cups and big girl training pants from Santa. (speaking of undies, she's totally asking to be potty trained. She's ready and I am so not).

(Pause again when she comes up to me for a snuggle, saying "mama!" as she leans her head into my chest. It would be so sweet (it really is so sweet), if I didn't quickly realize that she's got a massive diaper which needs changing. Coffee apparently works for toddlers too! Change diaper, run back to bathroom, heaving. Gross, again).

This pregnancy is simultaneously creeping and flying by. I'm huge, which makes me feel way further along than I am, but am still pretty functional. Bending over all the time and lifting up a 25 lb toddler seems to be wearing me down a lot faster than my almost 17 weeks of gestating would otherwise, and by the end of the day I am so incredibly sore and exhausted. I'm still quite nauseous and still throwing up, which is lovely (and normal for me), and starving all the time (which is also normal for me. Now I remember why I gained so much weight last time!). The sad thing is, I'm trying desperately to connect with this little fetus and seem to be having a hard time. My mind is otherwise preoccupied a lot of the day, and ultimately, when I think about the reality of having children, I'm pretty terrified. I think about how exhausting it must be, how little sleep I will get, how I will never, ever have even a moment of rest again. It's intimidating, and makes me wish I could stay pregnant forever - despite how much pregnancy and I disagree with each other. Rationally I know that when the day comes and this little one makes his/her appearance, my love for it will blossom out of thin air, and I will love it just as much as I love Ellie, but I cannot fathom how that's possible. It simply isn't, because I could never, ever love anything the way I love this girl next to me. So for now, I trust the words of all the mothers of 2+ who have come before me, and choose to believe that these feelings will come, and they will knock my socks off.

Okay. Gonna try to get this day started. Maybe a little second breakfast, maybe even a shower and then we're off to find compression nylons, which is just as fabulous as it sounds. :)