At no point does carrying a growing human get easier. Some of the well-meaning but frankly ridiculous pregnancy literature out there promises that the second trimester is a breeze compared to the first or third - I am living proof that that claim is a lie. Other empty promises say that the third trimester, though increasingly uncomfortable, is pain free, and a surge of energy will hit towards the end. All I have to say about that is: ha. Also: yeah, right.
Mr T continues to show endless reserves of patience to accompany my every moan and groan.
His foot massages still leave plenty to be desired (he just can't seem to get the right amount of pressure going) and no matter how I admonish him to remember, he can't seem to condition himself to add ice cubes to my water (someone, somewhere, told him ice-cold drinks are bad for a pregnant woman. I have already put out a hit on this person).
Despite his minor transgressions, Mr T has proved himself invaluable in helping me get through this difficult time, and for the life of me, I cannot imagine how any pregnant woman can go through this without her partner - the father-to-be - by her side. Every pregnant woman needs someone who is riddled with guilt as he watches her suffer, someone she can boss and order around, someone who won't mind when his T-shirt is used to wipe tears after the tissue box has been depleted, someone ready to be used as a punching bag when the need strikes.
In an effort to make me feel better and focus on the end goal, Mr T suggested we start a list of all the things we can't wait to do with our Baby A, once she joins the outside world and stops wreaking havoc on my insides. I immediately joked that I can't wait to give the kid a taste of her own medicine and karate chop my way across her torso. Mr T said that wasn't what he had in mind.
"I can't wait till she recognises me and shows excitement when she sees me," he said.
"I can't wait to see my grandparents holding her," I replied.
"I can't wait till she starts playing with Legos; there are so many Lego toys I've been wanting to buy actually," Mr T confessed.
"Well, in that case, I can't wait until she starts colouring and I can buy boxes and boxes of crayons. I really love crayons," I admitted in return.
Since then, the list has only grown. Mr T can't wait to see her crinkle her nose at her first bite of a lemon and give her first belly laugh after a game of peek-a-boo and discover the joy of playing with a whole roll of toilet paper.
As for me? I can't wait to see if she'll love bubble baths as much as I do. I can't wait to see her wiggle her toes when her father tickles her feet. And I can't wait to see her wrap him around her little finger.
She's not even here yet, and so far, she's caused me a lot of miserable discomfort, and yet already, this abstract child I have yet to meet has managed to make Mr T and me closer than ever in our marriage.
I always knew I'd have a baby with superpowers.