I was trying to come up with something agenty to talk about, since I've been discussing much more family stuff than work stuff lately, but after the appointment with my midwives this morning, I'm having a hard time thinking about anything but the sweet potato in my belly. I wasn't really thinking of it as a sweet potato until I got my weekly BabyCenter email, which always describes the growing baby in terms of something edible. Which is sort of weird, really. Isn't there another comparison we could be using? Like: this week your baby is the size of a Bose speaker, next month it will be the size of a medium Mag-Lite flashlight. Or better yet, using something living. Month Four: fruit bat, Month Five: Cloud Forest Pygmy Owl.
The appointment went well, with me demonstrating ideal blood pressure and textbook weight gain. I was feeling like the perfect little patient, and reliving my high school days of people-pleasing geekdom, until they pointed out that my water intake is abysmal. I'm not sure exactly what "specific gravity" measures and why my pee would have anything to do with quantum physics, but apparently mine measured off the charts. Which means I'm only slightly more hydrated than, say, an actual Mag-Lite. I knew they'd get me on that; I've never been much of a water drinker. Or an anything drinker, really. I generally find fluids to be an inconvenience, what with their leaving rings on the coffee table, taking up armrest space at the movies and making my uncles act ridiculous on major holidays. But I read the handout, and I realize that I'm in the process of growing a human being who, for the next 22 weeks, will be living in its own personal waterworld. It's just always been easier for me to abstain from something fun than to push myself into something that's not even all that unpleasant. I've got no problem dropping alcohol and caffeine, but come on, let's not expect me to drink water or eat an orange. I'm not a robot!
But I may, however, be a flashlight.