Done and done

The last two weeks have been so extraordinarily busy I’m surprised I didn’t puke. But now we’re back in Chicago. Living together full-time!

I feel a little strange about the major transitions that I haven’t had time to think about until now. Like I actually live in a different place now. And I have to write a dissertation now. And we have to transform the apartment into a place where a baby will live.

OH YEAH THERE’S THAT.

I can’t tell if I haven’t been gifted the infamous 2nd trimester energy boost, or if I’ve just been employing any additional energy as soon as it’s produced.

I can tell you that I’m eating like a horse. Also that I am NOT glowing. My skin is the same or worse than not-pregnant. My hair is a small-scale atrocity: limp and stringy. (I’m buying new products like mad to try to resolve this issue.) My pelvis was killing me for about a week and a half — right at my pubic symphisis, which makes things like putting on pants quite painful — but that’s slowly been getting better, and I hope that path continues, at least for a while.

Those are the woes, I suppose.

I’m hoping to feel the zunzun very soon. I’ve been sneezing quite a bit, as a result of the dust of moving, and I thought maybe I could feel the startled flapping of a fetus when I do that sometimes, but I can’t say for sure. I suppose it’ll reveal itself sooner or later.

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