And there you have it. The only real downside of being pregnant I've discovered so far, once you get used to shorter runs, resign yourself to ten months without turkey sandwiches, and remind yourself that hot yoga is no fun in the summer anyway. Those are all incredibly minor sacrifices, and I am grateful to the universe every day that they've been the worst of it (particularly in light of the horror stories that continue to show up in my inbox, courtesy of the "helpful" baby apps.)
It's my Mom's fault, really, and in the grand scheme of things she did pretty well too. Having raised four kids devoted to reading, travel, conservation, personal fitness, healthy eating, and universal kindness, she passed on to all of us only one really ugly personality trait: we hate- and I mean, really hate, to the depth of our souls- for anybody to have fun without us.
I've spent most of my adult life trying to overcome this flaw, with mixed success. But pregnancy has proven to be the source of major backsliding. As much as I want for Seth to not have to suffer alongside me for ten months- that being totally unnecessary from a rational perspective- sometimes the unfairness of it all takes over, and sulking ensues, my magnanimous offers to entertain myself while he gets to stay out late and drink beer and smoke the occasional cigarette notwithstanding. Particularly when reminded of the year plus that I skipped nights out with friends to be with him while he recovered at Walter Reed. But that's just a no-win road to go down.
It had been a rough couple weeks in the "fair" department, at any rate. Seth went from the beer-soaked West Point golf tournament to Alaska (which I enjoyed immensely but had to content myself with small tastes of microbrews and early bedtimes and long walks rather than sea kayaking or trail running) to the National Rifle Match at Camp Perry (too loud and lead-filled for unborn babies, but also liberally sprinkled with beer drinking) to a weekend that included a terrifically boozy (for him- I nursed a diet Coke, and a guilty one at that) summer Jason Aldean concert and an all-nighter of a bachelor party. And now it was only Tuesday, and his "one beer (which you can't have because of the baby) after the soccer game (which you won't be able to attend because of work)" had turned into who knows how many, and I had fallen asleep by myself on the couch with Crystal Light and awful reruns again.
I wasn't mad about that, really. Prior to the inception of Baby Nieman, our "one beer" turned into a late night more often than not, so I definitely got it. It was just starting to get old, being stuck solo on the couch. There are terrific things about being pregnant, don't get me wrong, but all the fluttery kicks and ultrasound heartbeats in the world don't erase the occasional longing to be partners in crime with my husband again, instead of the dutiful, absentee, stay-at-home, early-to-bed wife. (Who does, yes, keep herself entertained by baking homemade muffins sometimes, but has not yet resorted to scrapbooking or knitting. Yet.)
Sporadic insensitivity to this situation and spotty night-out texting aside, Seth has been terrific about pregnancy throughout. He never misses an opportunity to tell me he's grateful and/or proud of me, brags about his daughter to anyone who will listen, and continues to read everything he can get his hands on about pregnancy and parenting. As partial penance, no doubt, for his summer of solo fun, he spent all day Saturday putting together baby furniture for the nursery (a frustrating, complicated, and lengthy process, which I cannot imagine was fun with a post-concert hangover), and stayed up half the night Sunday finally cleaning up the Superfund site formerly known as the man cave and garage and organizing his new fishing tackle (courtesy of Missy!), just because he knew the mess was driving me nuts. (Not to mention the fact that his drunken serenades at the concert were completely adorable and caused me to fall more in love with him than ever.)
Sunday while he slept in, I escaped for a massage and a Balducci's run with Jess, who was on her own for the first time since her husband Flip was blown up almost two years before, and even sipped a brunch mimosa. It wasn't a bad weekend, all in all, and Seth and I both had to admit that as much as we enjoy being on the go, sometimes you need to stay home and reset and not eat out and clean and mow the damned yard. All of which we congratulated ourselves for knocking out, after a couple of long weeks of neglecting our home and our sleep schedules.
Even after his late night last night, the Dad of the Year made it to our 26 week appointment this morning, and everything is right on track. No ultrasound this time, so he didn't get to gloat about how big she is, but we did get to hear a strong, regular heartbeat, and confirm that it's OK that I'm not in "beached whale" territory on the weight gain chart and that I probably do not have gestational diabetes. (Cheesecake all 'round!)
I also got to go to dermatology with Seth, which was a treat as I find myself feeling a bit out of touch with his medical progress these days, now that we've fully escaped the clutches of Walter Reed. He's been going in to have botox and laser hair removal done on his right leg, in hopes that it will cut back on the sweating inside his liner and improve his prosthetic performance and fit. He's also agreed to participate in a study as the first amputee to get a more permanent treatment called miraDry (using lasers and microwaves, usually done on underarms in cases of excessive sweating.) We're excited to see how it works for him, and his first treatment seems to have gone pretty well, although it'll be months before he can have the whole thing done (and, due to swelling, treating the portion of his leg that fits inside his socket will require some recovery time.)That's all our news at the moment, and I'm coming up short in the "photo of the week" department to boot. I'm going with this one I took of taco night, because it was a nice night, and because I'm hungry.
Oh, and there's a cool story about Seth's shooting here:
