Echoes.

The time passes for me rather quickly these days.
I’m not sure if it’s because of the chronic insomnia or the mind-numbing commercials that make their way across the tv screens during my bed rest moments of the past two months.

Today I’ve been back at work 3 days and the mixed blessings of adult conversation and paychecks come  head to head with the sheer motivation it takes to drive across town and walk out in this unholy heat that has blanketed Memphis for the past couple of months.

Baby baking is going much better.  I carry around meds that rattle when I walk – a grand total of 5 or 6 prescriptions with several doctor’s suggestions on over-the-counter medications.  I’ve lugged them all around in a knitting drawstring gift bag, an effort that makes me look both cutesy and poor as hell.
But, I’m not sick like I was.  I just simply have to avoid most foods with taste, barring the few foods that are pregnancy staples – beef jerky, pickles and the like.
Potato soup is my friend and I will eat it until I reach the bottom of the bowl and perhaps further if the soup warrants it.  McAlister’s Deli potato soup has led me through a table or two recently.  It’s delish.

And boy is this an active baby.  Moving early, moving late.  Moving where others can feel it.  I’m only 16 weeks, so this is early… and I can move him – him as a pronoun simply as a guess.  I won’t find out the sex for another few weeks… it’s perverseness of denying me enjoyment in fried foods simply has convinced me it’s a boy.  But I can move him – and must move him, for this baby and my bladder have bonded in a way that cannot be allowed to happen for the next 5 months.

I’m carrying low.  Very low it feels like, especially in comparison to carrying Abbey and every movement is slightly painful in the tender way and causes me to rush to the bathroom in the urge to pee.  The urge the may not have been there a moment before, but the bond that I mentioned struck true again and now get out of my way!  It’s my turn again.