No sleep 'til Brooklyn *
It's becoming harder and harder to sleep in, and I am disgruntled. On the rare occasion I have a weekend day when I can sleep in with MB (like, well, today), I'd really like to take advantage, considering how likely it is that our sleeping-in days are soon to come to a very definite end. However, lately it's become a challenge. If I stay in bed too long, my knees wake me up with the old-lady aching. One morning it was so bad that I dreamed my knees were aching, then woke up to find that they were. They don't hurt during the day, but if I try to sleep too long they have something to say about it. I wake up every few hours to roll over, which is getting harder by the week, and of course I have to get up at least once a night to pee, and sometimes more if I try to sleep late. Oh, and when I wake up to pee, I'm always absolutely parched and have to get a drink of water, which just perpetuates the getting-up-to-pee thing. I've been told that sleeping patterns naturally change during the third trimester to prepare the mother for what is coming, but this is one test I'd rather not study for ahead of time.
In other pregnancy news, I'm apparently at the point where people feel it's okay to comment on my size. Up until now, the comments I've received have been overwhelmingly sweet and supportive. One Monday, three coworkers exclaimed over how cute I looked before 10 AM. I was also told over the course of things that I looked "tiny," that I didn't look as far along as I was, and that I was "all belly," which is a good compliment (at least to me). But the other day someone said, "You're going to be a house by the end!" (I am a house, dammit, a house for a baby!) and then yesterday someone asked when I'm due, and when I said "January" he said, "That's going to be a big baby!" I'm not horribly offended, but really...I'm not that big, and I only have 8 weeks left. At least, I don't think I'm that big. Of course, I know I'm going to get bigger, but that's sort of the whole idea, right? OH. And for some reason it bugs me when people accuse me of waddling. I AM NOT WADDLING YET, Y'ALL. Ask me again in another few weeks, but for now I maintain that I am still mostly non-waddly.
In other-other news, I had to take the three-hour glucose tolerance test on Friday. It wasn't so horrible, but I'm starting to get nervous about the results. Being on a restricted diet through Thanksgiving and Christmas while pregnant sounds like a special kind of torture, in addition to worries about being pushed toward an early induction for a "big baby" and the increased chances of developing diabetes later in life if you have GD. So, if you can spare a few fingers to cross, I'd appreciate it. I'm hoping my OB's office will call tomorrow with the results so I don't spend the whole week sweating it.
* This title would be really funny if we were planning to name our baby Brooklyn, wouldn't it? Don't get all excited, though, it's not a clue. Staten is a way better name for a boy anyway.