— hard to believe i’m not hating this —

I never thought I’d write anything approaching a post like this. When I was pregnant with Cameron…well, let’s just say I didn’t enjoy it. Ok. Fine. There were whole parts of it I downright hated. I remember being in recovery, less than 6 hours after having given birth to him, not currently on any pain medication and still hooked up to pitocin, and thinking (and even saying out loud) I’d gladly do that whole labor/delivery part again anytime if I could just skip the pregnancy part.

Not joking. Not exaggerating. I really really didn’t enjoy being pregnant at. all.

So when we decided it was time to start thinking about adding to our family, part of me dreaded it. We originally thought we’d aim for around 2 years apart in age. But when the time came to make that decision, it was a resounding “no way, no how” from both me and my hubby. We weren’t ready to go there again yet. And I definitely wasn’t ready to be pregnant again yet. We postponed knowing that 3-3.5 years apart was the furthest apart we’d want to go if we could help it. Not gonna lie, sorta felt like it was looming up on me a bit sometimes.

To be fair, it’s not like my pregnancy with Cameron was a bad one. In fact, it was pretty textbook. Nauseous constantly and exhausted until the magical 13 week mark. Boost of energy, no nausea and start showing for the 2nd trimester. The doc recommended between 25-30 lbs of weight gain total, I gained 27 lbs. Started waddling in the 3rd trimester (or maybe a bit sooner), really uncomfortable and ready for delivery by the last 4 weeks. 12 hour labor, 8 lbs 5 oz baby, everyone’s healthy and happy. Truly, it couldn’t have been more by the book for the most part. But I didn’t enjoy any of it.

Ok wait. That’s not entirely true. Feeling and seeing him move in the womb was sort of mind-blowingly amazing. So that part rocked. The rest… eh. Not so much.

So imagine my surprise this time around when not only am I not hating every minute, but I’m actually *gasp* enjoying whole stretches of it. For realsies. And no one is more shocked than me (though I think my husband is a close second on that one).

And I’ll admit it. I didn’t go into this with the best attitude either. I just assumed I’d hate it again. I figured I’d trudge along until the whole feeling the baby move thing, which would mitigate the disklike, and survive till d-day. I prepared myself initially to do a few things different for my own comfort. For one, I invested in a maternity pillow to help with the the pregnancy related PGP and round ligament pain. I loaded up on preggo-pops planning for more nausea. I grumbled a bit to myself and prepared for the worst. But something shifted early on that changed my perspective slightly. I didn’t get super sick. I was pregnant (and knew it) for a good 3+ weeks before I felt a bit of nausea at all. And I had no food aversions, no crazy send-me-running-for-the-bathroom type smells assaulted my now bloodhound like nose. I waited for it. A few times I did get sick for an hour hear and there. But honestly, it was nothing like my first pregnancy. I thought to myself Huh. Maybe it won’t be so bad this time. I was definitely even more exhausted than the first time (hello, ginormous toddler at home…), but I started deciding to take control of as many aspects of my pregnancy as I could. I got the best possible doctors assigned to me for all my health care needs (I always have to have a minimum of three thanks to Preston’s heart defect at birth, my Hashimoto’s Disease and normal OB-GYN stuff). I went on a gluten-free diet at my thyroid doctor’s insistence. I lost 8 lbs immediately (how’s THAT for a pregnancy mood booster!). Sure I showed way faster and I had a lot of the same fears about miscarriage and all that again, but I felt….good. In control. Not at the mercy of my pregnancy.

At the first sign of PGP and round ligament problems (which were much worse this time), I got recommendations for – and ended up with – the best chiropractor on the planet (no really, he is. Don’t argue.). I not only committed to prenatal yoga again, I joined a legitimate yoga studio and started upping my practice to 2, 3, 4 and eventually 5-6x a week. I’ve had whole days and even weeks where I’ve literally felt better pregnant than I did when I wasn’t pregnant. Talk about a head-scratcher. I didn’t know that was possible. And the kicker (no pun intended) was when I started feeling my baby girl moving too.

I’m not only not hating this, I’m *deep breath* actually enjoying this pregnancy.

I honestly don’t even know what to do with that. I’m just… it’s just… I can’t… what?

I’m solidly into my 3rd trimester now. No waddling (yet), I can still get on my own shoes and socks (I can even balance in a standing sucirandhrasana – eye of the needle – pose to put them on) – which is awesome for my hips by the way. I can even wear my wedding ring still and have yet to gain weight (though I don’t doubt I’ll end up around 25 lbs again – a girl can’t have everything…). Some things are definitely starting to get difficult again, but I find that I’m not nearly as bothered by it. I feel good. I feel like I’ve done my part so far to be and do the best for my baby girl while also being a lot easier to live with for both my husband and my 3 year old son.

And the best part by far is feeling like the undercurrent of this entire experience is confidence. Last time, the undercurrent was definitely a mixture of fear, anxiety, and a touch of helplessness. This time… it’s not so much an I-know-what-I’m-doing feeling (because seriously, everything about this pregnancy has been wildly different than last time…) but more of a relaxed I-can-do-this attitude. No fear. Just a lot of slowing down to enjoy it (especially since the plan is that it’s the last one) and marveling at just how amazing this body is. I’m excited to meet her, but I’m not wishing that the days would speed by as much. I’m not as touchy to the thoughtless comments of strangers (and the thoughtless touching like I’m a magical Buddha…). I’m not deep-down-horrified at my appearance. In fact, I haven’t had much of those “Wow. I’m hideous” moments at all. I’m proud of how well I’m doing. I’m not anywhere near as hormonal-crazy as I was last time. It’s really and truly been just good.

And I couldn’t be more surprised. And happy.

Of course, this probably means she’ll be a colicky baby and I’ll take it all back later, huh? Oh well. Bring it on.