My Second Trimester: Being Attacked from Inside.

A few months ago the sensations felt like popcorn cooking, bouncing off my insides. Any movenent at all was cute and friends and relatives would huddle around in a weird state of baby- excite to feel the wigglings of my little sea monkey. Baby’s about 30cm long now and his strength doesn’t seem to match his size. It feels more like the hulk residing in my belly than a little baby. And he’d probably fit in there too, judging by the ever- growing size of me! So far I’ve gained well over 10kg, which I’m still learning to carry around.

Right now these “flutters” feel like a tiny soldier in steel capped boots punting me in sensitive places I didn’t even know were down there like soccer balls. Sometimes he’s trying to suck his thumb, but can’t find his mouth, (yep, definitely my kid,) and until he succeeds he jabs his tiny fist all over the place. That feels like someone prodding at me with chopsticks.

Elbows are the worst. I swear, there is no pointier object on this planet. Elbow jabs are almost enough to drop me. And it seems that the more sensitive Mummy’s nerves are, the more he prefers the area, i.e; bladder, cervix, full stomach, (a.k.a trampoline).

Hiccups. Bad enough when I get them, but apparently he does too. At first I found this the cutest darn thing I’d ever seen. But hiccups down below can get pretty annoying when you’re trying to focus on a conversation and you’re jumping about in your seat like you need to pee. Which is also more than likely, as the frequent bladder relief tendencies from your first trimester do not go away. You just have less control. Don’t listen to anyone who tells you otherwise.

Standing, sitting, or any other form of shifting position, for that matter,  (occasionally even walking,) are proving themselves to be pretty difficult tasks when baby decides to play corners in my tummy. I turn left, baby rolls right. I turn right, baby decides it’s time to show off his circus skills. Gravity is no longer on my side. I can’t even balance my diet, let alone my weight as I walk. Just yesterday I walked into a fridge. How the heck did I miss a fridge? Oh, that’s right, I was distracted by the unexpected downwards punch.

As well as getting used to some alien- like movements in my tum, I’ve had to re-adjust my eating habits, the zippers on my pants and my mood. I’ve been a downright bitch, in all honesty. I’m so mean to all my friends. Subconsciously that’s probably because they’re all skinny and I’m a jealous little ball of fat rolling along behind them in the same baggy sweatpants I wore last week. The amount of times I’ve had to apologise for my behavior is embarrassing. Turns out tantrums aren’t only for three year olds. And neither are insults like “diddlehead.” (As you can see, my vocabulary is shrinking to make more room for my fat stomach.)

Did I mention I’m over being pregnant?

If I had to describe my second trimester in three words without swearing, it would be; wait… hmm. Nope, can’t do it.

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