Before I got pregnant I never ceased to be shocked when people posted pictures of their bellies alone as their facebook profile picture, or announced to the entire world measurements of things that should not be mentioned outside groups of close girlfriends. And now that I’m a healthy 35 weeks along I feel qualified to say: I am still shocked. This is the closest I will come to breaking my personal rules of privacy: behold, a belly photo.
The Bean predominantly kicks me in the right lung and upper rib cage. This past week he seems to have dropped. I can tell because I can breathe a little better and because I have a stomachache all the time as he now mostly kicks me in the stomach. Oof. One time I was leaning forward on my arm to look at Chris’ computer and a huge lump of baby made a swipe at my elbow. Yiii! Every other day or so he kicks me directly in the lungs so I go, “OOF!” and have to lean back to breathe. “I think you have a very active baby,” said my mom. He’s going to get twice this big?? Oh. My.
When I left the States in late June, at around 27 weeks, I thought, “Hmm, this whole time only one person patted my belly without asking. I guess I won’t have any of those funny privacy invasion stories most pregnant people have, because Japanese people surely won’t randomly touch my belly.” How wrong I was! Americans don’t touch my belly, or if they do they first ask tentatively if it’s ok.
None of my Japanese friends (or acquaintance, for that matter) are so inhibited. This cracks me up. “Ohayou! Good morning! Konnichiwa baby!” the bean is greeted every Sunday morning at church with much patting and rubbing. “Good thing I showered this morning!” I said as one friend looped her arm around my bum and put her ear to my belly and rubbed it. “When I meet him, he will recognize my voice!” my friend explained, beaming. Smart!
My cute little sister delivered Ezekiel Thomas O’Shay this week with a flower in her hair the entire time. At first I was secretly annoyed that my LITTLE sister had the major life experience of labor and birth before me (“I’ll be sure to give you LOTS of advice every time we talk!” she teased right afterwards), but I would not have thought to grab a pretty clippy flower on my way to the hospital. Now I know. Hannie, I stand in awe of you, and I am taking notes!! Congratulations, Hannah and Justin!
My cute little sister delivered Ezekiel Thomas O’Shay this week with a flower in her hair the entire time. At first I was secretly annoyed that my LITTLE sister had the major life experience of labor and birth before me (“I’ll be sure to give you LOTS of advice every time we talk!” she teased right afterwards), but I would not have thought to grab a pretty clippy flower on my way to the hospital. Now I know. Hannie, I stand in awe of you, and I am taking notes!! Congratulations, Hannah and Justin! 
Here’s what I don’t like about being pregnant: sweating ALL THE TIME. And I hate being perfectly round. I hate it when people say, “How are you feeling?” and I say, “Huge and hot,” as sweat runs everywhere, only to hear, “Oh, whatever, you don’t look that different.” What?! I’ve gained FORTY POUNDS and I’m only at 35 weeks! I’ve outgrown maternity pants! I have two chins! WHAT looks not different?
My best feature was my (formerly) cute little waist. Even when I gained weight, my waist stayed defined. Now I’ve barreled out my torso to the point that it’s difficult to bend left or right (going forward to paint my toenails is still not a problem). “What surprises you about pregnancy?” My mom asked once. “I expected to chunk out in the middle, but I did not expect my thighs to get so big,” I said. “Your thighs have to get bigger to carry around your big tummy!” she pointed out. So true!
I don’t really have to run to the bathroom any more than usual. I am WAY more thirsty though, and one day Chris asked why we had a half-jar of pickles in the fridge. I sheepishly told him the missing half of the jar just looked super tasty that afternoon. Chris cocked his head quizzically: “That is so unlike you.” “I know! I thought it was just a stereotype!” I wailed. Chris laughed really hard and hugged me. Other cravings include: limes, coconut popsicles, cereal, squishy cookies, and whatever is in front of me at the grocery store. I come home with the weirdest things. Bunny fruit snacks? Laffy Taffy? Unidentifiable tropical fruit? Weird.
People have started asking if I’m nervous about delivering the baby, or excited or ready or whatever. Sort of…I mean, uninterrupted sleeping is nice, even with a bowling ball anchoring my side to the bed. It’s nice and quiet in the morning (I am not a morning person. Neither is Chris). Once the bean’s here it’s pretty much time to get his passport and jet, which makes me sad (even though I’m happy about buying a house). September has a lot going on, so there’s a lot of potential to miss something important whenever the bean does show up (like Chris’ squadron farewell scheduled within 10 days of the bean’s due date). I’m so sad to give up my scooter.
On the other hand, I’m looking forward to carrying the bean in my arms instead of in my tummy. I want to take him to the local fan dance festival, whenever that is in September. I think it’ll be hilarious to try to get his baby passport photo. I want to see if he looks like the baby I dreamed about five years ago. I want to buy a house so I can decorate a Southeast Asian Ports of Call nursery with cool souvenirs from our adventures. I want to take a picture of the bean tucked under Chris’ chin while they nap. I want to introduce the bean to the kitties. I want to set up a house instead of pack one up. I want to stop gaining weight and start losing it! I want to sleep on my stomach again!
In conclusion, here’s a story about dreams and my scooter. About a year after we got here I started wondering when we should have the babies. This played around in the back of my mind for awhile, until I dreamed I was zipping along through the tunnel of cherry trees near home and hit a pregnant lady crossing the street with my scooter. She was fine, but she lost the baby and it was my fault. This sounds like a truly awful nightmare, but I actually woke up at peace: clearly my subconscious is choosing the scooter over a baby at this time, so I won’t worry about it anymore until I have a dream saying otherwise! Then last fall I had a dream my sister and I were sitting in my parents’ living room in Texas, both pregnant (or maybe I just really wanted to be in the dream…I forget), and my sister was telling us all about the baby. I woke up and thought, “Ah ha! The antidote dream! Time to think about babies! That’s weird, though, because of course Hannie and I will never both be at Mama and Daddy’s while we’re pregnant.” HA.