Welcome second trimester (it's about time you got here!)

Most women hail the onset of the second trimester because it marks the end of morning sickness and begins the golden weeks of pregnancy. Food tastes good again (largely because you are not experiencing the flavors going both down and up), you can stay awake for several hours without wanting to trade valuable organs or your life savings for a 20-minute nap, and ambition to “do things” emerges due to your sudden energy surge. While I am in my 23^rd week of pregnancy, and therefore, about 10 weeks into my second trimester, I feel as my golden moments have just arrived (and am scared they will be fleeting).

Let’s backtrack. With Cavan, I had morning sickness, but at week 13 on the dot, it dissipated. I remember the moment as if it was yesterday. One day I’m lying in bed in nauseous agony, and the next day I asked Hubby to take me to McDonalds (for my first real food in three months. Believe it or not, a human can live on crackers and bananas, but it is not a pleasant experience). We went through the drive-thru and ate in the parking lot. The Big Mac, large Dr. Pepper and fries were miracle drugs, and upon digestion, I was a new woman.

The rest of my pregnancy was easy, if not downright pleasurable. I relished in the new experience of growing my very own baby. Even thought the first flutters of kicks turned into jabs on my bladder, each was treasured. And how cute is that “popped” belly button. All the aches and pains and discomforts that I had been warned about from other women—gosh, what complainers. My feet swelled a little, but no big deal. Sure I had to pee all the time, but that was more of a nuisance than a discomfort. And why did other moms moan about heartburn? I felt great and was truly blessed with a perfect pregnancy experience until labor arrived. And 25 hours later, Cavan was finally born, but that is another story for another day.

But with this baby, the gestation has really taken its toll. SIXTEEN grueling weeks of morning sickness—the puking-multiple-times-a-day kind. My sweet Cavan would hear me wretching and come and pet me on the back while my head was in the toilet. And oh the heartburn, from the onset. So agonizing that I have to take Zantac both morning and night to keep it, just barely, under control. Not to mention paralyzing sciatica spasms, which thank goodness have been eased by visits to a pregnancy-trained chiropractor. And arriving home from work with just enough energy to lift Cavan into bed with me, turn on Wonder Pets and pass out until Hubby got home to take over toddler duty. And speaking of Hubby, I know he was ready to castrate himself with a kitchen knife to avoid knocking me up again. Apparently, my mood swung a bit toward the cranky side, with Hubby as the recipient. But I’m not intending to bitch (nor be one). Really I’m not. I’m intending to rejoice because this week I have emerged from the fog!

Maybe it was the fact that I wore to school today sneakers and jeans instead of work clothes, but I noticed a little bounce, a little pep, a little spring to my step. Maybe it is the onset of spring, but I’m feeling chipper and optimistic again enjoying the moments of my day rather than praying for night to arrive so I could finally get back in bed.  Whatever the reason, I’m going to live it up, because third trimester begins in less than a month, so my window of comfort is already closing, and come August, check Ebay—there is a strong likelihood that I’ll be auctioning one of my lungs for a couple hours of shut-eye.