State of the Pregnancy, Week 22

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Zoe pretty much kicks me all the time now.  In the morning as I’m waking, in the car as I’m going to work, sitting around at work, sitting around in meetings, at lunch, at dinner.  Which some scientists think is the signal that her brain is developing.  Which has led to the inevitable joke between me and Mike: “Another kick, another IQ point.”  Baddump ching.

Despite the holidays and a few excesses, I’ve been avoiding wheat and grains because (surprise) they give me heartburn.  If that seems crazy, I don’t know what to tell you, other than that when I eat tortillas or bread or rice, I end up belching fire two hours later.  When I don’t, I don’t. I was pretty primal/paleo prior to pregnancy (ahhhh, alliteration, I am your willing servant) and I go back to it when I start to feel less than optimal because, while it may not fix things, it also doesn’t mess them up any further.

The grains also make my heart race a little, though not as badly as sugar does.  I’m trying to avoid sugar anyway, though again — holidays make that one tough.

My right hand starts to tingle and goes numb if I grip things — handles, steering wheels, toothbrushes — and especially in the mornings.  I bought a wrist brace, and I’m hoping it helps.  It should be here Saturday.

My skin is awesome.  No zits.  Some darker freckles and beauty marks, but nothing devastating.

My hair — my whole life I’ve had greasy hair.  Now, suddenly, I can go a day without washing it.  It’s magical.

My boobs have finally stopped hurting, though I need 24-hour support anymore.

Sometime last week Zoe did some sort of complicated flip and my back hurt all. freaking. night, and most of the day after. Supposedly I did this to my mom, but that was at 30+ weeks and according to her, it hurt a lot.  Like, knocked the air out of her hurt.  So, get it out of your system now, ZMP.  Except, of course, then I think of childbirth and laugh weakly at this request.  Thrilling acrobatics, indeed.

Anyway, that’s the status and so far, I feel fine.  Pretty good, actually.  I am told this is the grace period, and after the general nausea and icky feeling of the first trimester, and the blood test stresses of early second, I’m enjoying my grace, and my little girl’s gentle flips and nudges.  I’m here, she’s saying.  Just give me some more time.