I haven't said too much about my pregnancy on this blog, in part because I'm superstitious and in part because there really hasn't been that much to report. I've been so incredibly lucky--no morning sickness, no uncomfortable heartburn or weird aversions, very little discomfort of any kind--that I feel bad when I read about others' trials in pregnancy. Remind me that I said this in four months when I'm ready to deliver the baby on my own with kitchen shears and a teakettle of boiling water just to be done, but I really do feel that my body functions better when I'm pregnant. My cravings? Fruit and plenty of it. My metabolism? Apparently working almost like a normal person's rather than that of a dieting famine survivor with a thyroid condition. My spirits? Generally good, with a tendency to the crabby when crossed, but I can hardly blame that on pregnancy.
Alas, the plan is that this will be my last pregnancy, so we'll never know if I could have become a supermodel or Mother Teresa or something if I had followed my Great-grandmother Helen's childbearing lead. But given that the whole parenting part is a helluva lot harder than the freight part, I guess it's safer not to find out. Besides, if I'd wanted to be pregnant 19 times, I really should have started sooner.
Anyway, I trust that I'm not breaking too many readers' hearts by not going into overly icky pregnancy details, not that there have been many of them so far, unless you have a horror of grapefruit. God, I love grapefruit right now. I could eat it for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.
Are you grossed out yet?