Well hello there, 2nd Trimester

So I am officially in the second trimester today.  Or yesterday.  Or whatever.  I'm over 13 weeks, so there you go.

This is the slow, boring part of the pregnancy.  I feel better, but I'm still tired, and I still get nauseous and that OMG IF I DON'T EAT IN THE NEXT FOUR SECONDS I AM GOING TO DIE feeling.  But this is pretty uneventful.  I feel some flutters, but no real movement.   Nothing exciting at the next appt -- hear the heartbeat again, which is super cool, but we'll hear it at every appointment here on out.   So we are in the boring part of pregnancy.

PJ has started to walk just holding on to one hand now.  He usually starts cracking up and ends up falling down, but we're getting there.  I think he'll be walking on his own in the next month or so.   He crawled pretty late, and since he's so good at that now he probably is just taking a bit longer.  I'm okay with that.

My good friend Rita, who has a 7 month old, is pregnant again.  She's due November 20, so she's about 5 weeks behind me.  She's a little freaked out (her little ones will be 14 months apart) but I know she'll be able to handle it.   Her older brothers are 15 months apart and she and her middle bro are 18 months apart.   So I guess she's following in mama's footsteps. :)

I've decided in each blog post, I'm gonna post something that's going to go in my "What happens after labor is over" book.  Today's topic:  Afterbirth.

Afterbirth is pretty much all the shit (literally and figuratively) that is still inside after your beautiful bundle of happiness is out.   Before they stitch you up (we'll talk about that later), a nurse will pretty much straddle you and push down on your "I had a baby in there about two minutes ago and it's stretched out to proportions I didn't know possible" uterus to get it all out.   It's painful -- not excruciating, not terrible, but your abdomen feels like someone is dropping a car on it.    It's important that this all comes out though. 

This might be a good time for your husband to go see the baby in the nursery.  John was a trooper during the entire birth, and was not grossed out.  But even he, upon hearing what was coming, kissed my forehead, and said "I'm gonna go see PJ, babe."