Right in the smack of it…

Anne Wambua continues with her story on the quest for another child. She is beginning to think that she should always be pregnant!

‘You are taking shape.’ he says. I am wearing a new top that somehow seems to accentuate my increasingly bulging tummy. ‘That is not funny.’ I tell him. I am not amused with the way he laughed as he said the words.-My husband is commenting on my new look. My pregnancy is now visible. I am 20 weeks pregnant, half way through my journey. Can you believe it? How time flies. Is it not just the other day that my stomach was as flat as a pancake, only recently that I was earnest to fall pregnant?

My wardrobe has considerably shrank

I am already starting to miss my fitting, fashionable clothes. Sometimes I am at a loss, not knowing what to wear in the morning, my wardrobe has considerably shrank. This has cost me time, getting me late in starting my day in more than one occasion. Soon I will be wearing his shirts. I read somewhere that men’s shirts are ideal for a pregnant woman. ’A typical shirt that is long and loose is perfect for pregnancy. Roil up the sleeves and add a piece of jewelry for a feminine touch.’

Just the thought gives me the shivers

I am enjoying my pregnancy. I however do not want to focus on its end result too much. I fear that I may get consumed by the sheer joy and enormity of it. Just the thought gives me the shivers. That I am having a baby!

Next week I am scheduled for an appointment at the clinic. I cannot wait. I want to know the sex of my baby, like yesterday. Not that it really matters whether it is a boy or a girl. But I just need to know.

I am already promising myself not to reveal the identity to anyone—but we shall see about that. My husband is not keen on knowing. A child is a child, he keeps saying.’ He jokes that so long as the baby is black it is fine with him.

My facial looks are still the same

I have not changed much. At least my facial looks are still the same (please do not tell me otherwise); my skin is still smooth, even though I suspect that I have grown a shade darker. I have told God that I do not wish for a bigger nose or enlarged lips, something I tend to see with many pregnant women. I am consoling myself that since this did not happen in my first pregnancy, then it will not happen again. But who knows…

The other day we had dinner and I cleared my plate, an unusual thing. I took it to the kitchen and I could not resist another piece of chicken. I stood next to the sink enjoying it and when my husband found me at it all he could do was smile and shake his head. He does not believe that I am the same person who would be satisfied with only one serving. The fact that I am eating well is good for me though. Last month the doctor told me that I was not adding weight as fast as I should. I had only added a kilogram In the span of more than one month. ‘Not right for an expectant mother.’ he had told me.

I have since been more careful.

I recently heard about this lady who was in her last trimester of her pregnancy. She was fixing her curtains when she happened to lose her balance ever so slightly, though she got to support herself on the bed. It is incomprehensible that she lost her baby a few days later, after complications arose. I have since been more careful.

I am not able to bend as easily as I used to. This means that I cannot do household chores that involve bending, like washing clothes and cleaning the house. My previous house help is no longer available. Last Saturday I slumped on the sofa in a miserable heap, eyeing my dusty and unkempt house. I yearned for an extra pair of hands. After a bit of motivation from my son who was, thankfully, on holiday, we got to clean the house. It took quite a while but we did It! It was a small fete, given that it had been a while since I did it myself.

I am beginning to think that maybe I should always be pregnant!

My husband has asked me to get a live-in house-help. But I will not hear any of this yet. Meanwhile, I am content with getting the occasional help over the weekend when the house looks its worst. And I enjoy cooking my meals. Of late, my man has been such a darling, helping me cook. I love it. The other day I worked late. On my way home, I sent him a text message asking him to get some roast meat from the shopping centre. I could not fathom the idea of cooking. It was a pleasant surprise to walk into the house and be greeted by the aroma of a cooking meal. And yesterday he helped me cook, again! I am beginning to think that maybe I should always be pregnant!

END: PG 16/10-11