Thank you all for sweet responses to yesterday's post. I think what I appreciate most is your telling me how great I look, as it just proves that I snapped a selfie with a really good angle, and that springing for those J Brand maternity jeans was a wise investment. I have to confess that I am not a fan of being pregnant. I am, of course, thankful about the miracle of life and all that bullsh*t, but for the most part I absolutely detest carrying around a child for nine months. I'm a selfish person, so acquiescing to the needs of an even more selfish, parasitic baby-being is not my forté. Nevertheless, I and my binge drinking are what got me into this mess, so I'm determined to be a more pleasant preggo this time around.
This whole second-time pregnancy thing has been very different. For starters, I'm so busy taking care of the Muffin Man and running myself ragged just trying to keeping up with daily life that I barely have time to think about baby numero dos. When I was pregnant with Noah I knew exactly how many weeks pregnant I was, the size of the fetus, and I documented every kick. This time around I have to ask my Doctor how far along I am, I don't really care if kiddo number two is the size of a grapefruit or a honeydew, and the only time I notice this kid kicking is when it's keeping me awake. Poor kid, it's not even fully formed yet and it's already playing second fiddle.
The good news is that I'm not particularly alone in this whole no-time-for-developing-baby thing. This piece made me feel so much better about the fact that I haven't spent a whole lot of hours focused on bébé numero deux. I suspect that Jordan is, overall, a much more competent mother than I am (and much, much more chic, if we're being truthful) but at least I know I'm not the only pregnant woman out there paying marginal attention to my developing fetus. Look, I'm busy paying marginal attention to my fully-formed toddler, and a woman only has so many hours in her day.
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