Seven months later..

It's been an inexcusably long time since I last wrote. And in retrospect, I wish I'd done a better job of documenting the past seven months because I will never experience anything like them again (at least not as a novice). But better late, than never, right? A brief summary:
I learned in February that I was pregnant (and extremely fertile, apparently, despite my fears of the contrary, as I got pregnant within weeks of getting off the pill). And as much as I wanted to shout the news to the world, and post it here immediately, my husband--and my own superstitions--kept me quiet...for a couple months at least. I knew too many other women in their 30s, and even 20s, who'd miscarried. And I tried not to allow myself to become too attached to that growing bulge in my belly until I'd hit the 6-month mark: a milestone I reached on August 17. Now I have less than 6 weeks before my due date. And my son seems anxious to make an appearance. He's growing so quickly that my belly grew a full inch in the past week. And I'm finally starting to slow down a little bit. I've been fortunate to have a pretty easy pregnancy--so far, anyway--with the exception of the 2 months in my first trimester when I was plagued with hours-long bouts of nausea but only vomited twice (but wished I had--just to get some relief). I've done everything in my power to try and avoid the common side effects associated with pregnancy: varicose veins, stretch marks, back pains, exhaustion, and edema.
And, if my experience is any indication (though I know that every pregnancy is different), it really comes down to two things: eating well and exercising. I don't always eat well, but I have at least two pieces of fruit, whole wheat bread, veggies, and elean protein every day (helps to offset the cookies I almost always indulge in afterwards). And I am still going to the gym nearly every day. I'm fortunate that I was already in the habit of hitting the gym 5 days a week, thanks in part to my job, which doesn't require me to show up till 10 or 10:30. And I've modified the workout. I just alternate between three different elliptical or stair climber machines and, if I get short of breath, I slow down. But, as hard as it sometimes is to drag myself to the gym, I always feel better afterwards. More energy, less weight gain, less swelling. I worried that I might be pushing it too hard (something I've been known to do) but my OB only encouraged my exercise regimen. And then I read a piece in Pregnancy magazine documenting one woman's delivery day. Her husband noted that she had a much easier delivery than some of her peers because she'd exercised every day--every day!--during her pregnancy. Who knows if it really makes that much of a difference, but it makes sense intuitively. If you're in good shape, and your muscles are toned, it should be easier to employ them during labor.
Prenatal yoga helps too. Every woman in my class looks fit and, relatively, comfortable. And we range from 14 weeks to 40. A couple weeks ago, I was shocked when the woman on the mat beside me told me she was due that day. Yet here she was, doing yoga. (Fortunately, her water didn't break in class--that could have been messy).
But despite all the precautions, it's impossible to ward off all the side effects. After long days at work, and there have been many of those lately, my whole body feels swollen and I can hardly muster the energy to walk to the subway and home. And when I look down, my lower legs are often swollen. Socks leave deep imprints around my ankles. There are creases in my belly from my waistband (even if it's elastic). And I just feel big. Fortunately, I only have a couple more weeks at work. We get a very generous four weeks off before the due date.
Mentally, I am already half out the door. I work hard, but my priorities are already shifting, which is really odd for someone whose career has been such a priority for the past decade. There have been massive changes at work in the past week. Three editors are leaving, or have left already. Four of our senior editors have been promoted (including mine). And our daily workload has increased tremendously. But as I sit in our news meetings, I often feel like an observer. I am still pitching ideas and writing and editing stories. But all it takes is a nudge from my unborn, and extremely restless, son and any thoughts of work disappear. All I can think about is that little boy curled up in my belly, waiting to be born. And the feelings-this combustible combination of love and fear and excitement--swell up inside me.
Despite job changes and marriage and moves, my life has remained relatively stable--even predictable--for the past several years. I've been in the same apartment with my husband for six years (two of them as his wife). I've been at the same magazine for five years. I've been in NYC for nearly seven years and had the same close friends here for at least that long--some since college. My schedule has hardly varied for the past five years. But all that is about to change: my full-time job (motherhood!), my daily schedule, my sleep and exercise regimen, my social life, my identity.
It's all a little daunting. As much as I try to do to prepare for motherhood, there's no telling how I'm going to feel when it arrives. But I'm excited at the prospect.