I was right! Hosting a 30-person party when six months pregnant can be difficult. I think the day before the party was more taxing than the actual day itself, as Rob and I ran like mad fools, straightening, fixing and preparing. Between all that and chasing Jacob throughout the semi-clean house I found myself so sore by afternoon that I simply could not stand up anymore. To do it again, I’d find a hidden fortune and hire a maid for a day, as well as a caterer for the actual event. However, this shoestring budget party was given 100 percent by yours truly and the wonderful man I married. So, we were both ragged by day’s end. By the time the guests started arriving I think we were both asleep. It was, in truth like a dream world. I heated and served food like a robot then, when everyone left, collapsed in a warm set of pjs as quickly as possible. I should say that I truly did enjoy everyone’s company. It’s just that I’d have been a much better hostess if I felt even the slightest bit less achy.
Recently, I’ve rediscovered that I’m pregnant, in my dreams. Unfortunately, the only problem is that when I’m not dreaming about the baby it’s because I’m not asleep. The past several days have dawned before the little one has allowed me to get to sleep. I guess it’s really not the baby’s fault. It’s not constant kicking and squirming that’s kept me awake. It’s the fact that by the time I get most of me comfortable, some part begins to ache. If I lay on my left side, my stomach feels like it’s stretching out the right. When I lay on the right side somehow gravity takes over and pulls just too hard on the left. My bed is piled high with pillows, which have been used at every possible relief point, but somehow nothing works quite right. Again, I mention that while I experienced this when I was carrying Jacob it just didn’t seem to happen so soon! As my mother keeps reminding me, those muscles have already stretched once, now they’ll just go sooner.
Considering how much discomfort I’m beginning to experience the following statement may sound odd. I can’t shake the feeling that I’m nowhere near as large as I was with Jacob at this time. I know that each pregnancy is different and that I probably should be happy with that fact but I can’t stop worrying that being smaller means there’s something wrong. Rob keeps telling me that perhaps we’re just going to have a petite baby girl this time rather than a strapping little boy. I’d like to believe him but I’m finding it difficult to shake the feeling that perhaps I should eat differently, or eat more, or something.