The journey is almost at the end of its beginning. Yay! Maybe it is because you had a crazy first trimester, but your third trimester is mostly a walk in the park. You’re not that tired even though you do look tired all the time. Stairs and hills are work though. Let’s not talk about looks because you gave up on that long ago. All your photos in this trimester look like a strange version of you. You can finally see that nose that was giving away your secret before you started showing the bump. Apparently it grows for you to supply enough air for two people. I mean, really? ROTFL. Oh, I forgot. I can’t roll no more.
It starts slowly. Gently. One moment, you’re not 100% sure you are pregnant even though you took a test that displayed two lines pretty instantaneously. You even go to the doctor’s just for a second opinion. He does no test. He is sure you are, based on your LMP and general cycle history. Oh yeah, you will learn a lot of acronyms during the journey. For the purposes of this story, we will focus on just bodily changes — not the mind, not the feelings — just the body. The rest of the first trimester manenos deserve their own story.
Also, how does Shiku suddenly know these things? I guess we will find out soon enough, won’t we? 😉
Here we go.
She will ask about my day, even when I don’t want to tell her about it, which is almost always all the time. She will linger, even when I snap at her. She will be so sweet that I will eventually tell her. And when I actually have a bad day and willingly tell her, she will ensure I am okay. She will call the next day when I get to work to follow up, even if I was with her a few minutes ago in the house.
I have a father who never ever fails me. He is always a phone call away. He toils so hard I can never even dream of ever having half the zeal he has to dig up acres of land and cater for an entire extended family. My father is so lovable, his students never forget him. I know that even from Twitter. I mention him and I will often find an old boy who will speak fondly of him. My father is that guy who lives to make us laugh. He will get mad sometimes which is normal. He gave us some good beating when we were young. He had a special cane for those sessions. I can count the occasions on one hand though.
My father drove us to school, my brother and I, when he could. In a rackety old KUL 509, he would ferry us to school.
There are memories I hate to remember. Bad memories. Fortunately or unfortunately, those are the ones I remember. […]
(This was supposed to be published a while back but somehow I’m doing it now) Right now, am […]