Nothing more scintillating than someone telling you about their dreams, right? Right.
So, last night I dreamed for the first time that the baby was a boy. I haven’t told Louis, but I’m sure this is delightful news to him. You see, while I wanted a boy first all growing up, the last year and a half or so I’ve had a lot of dreams in which I had a little girl (and only a little girl) and this has led me to really want a girl. I also was giving him formula, and I didn’t have a bassinet, and he was like a 6-month old at birth, and all my friends hated me for having a kid. So, I think it was a conglomeration of all the things I’m worried about rather than a taste of what’s to come. Oh, and Louis was really busy and I think we weren’t in our house for some reason, like we lost it or something. I didn’t realize that I was worried it will be a boy; I actually think I’ll be delighted with the news either way. That being said, I’ve felt very strongly that it’s a girl and haven’t been shy about saying so; I think I’m worried about having to admit my feeling was wrong more than anything. I hear dreams are particularly, ah, colorful and vivid during pregnancy, so perhaps this will become a regular feature around here. Oh, good.
Yesterday was the first day of my second trimester, which means the baby is roughly the size of a medium shrimp and weighs almost an ounce. I have also officially gained my first pound since becoming pregnant (meaning, I’ve gotten back everything I lost to morning sickness, plus one). The baby counts for a massive one-sixteenth of that. Rad. I’ve also transitioned from eating constantly to avoid throwing up despite hating the thought of horrible, horrible food to OH MY GOSH I MUST EAT EVERYTHING RIGHT NOW OR DIE. Perhaps these two facts are related? Magical, magical time.