August's Angel

Part 14: Salt & Sour

Your baby is the size of an eggplant or grapefruit, about 11.4 inches long and just over a pound. Yes, a lot of growing to do, but think where she started from!

She can hear your voice, so make sure you and the family interact with her. She is getting a lot of rest with about 80% of her sleep being in REM (rapid eye movement) sleep, and at this time her brain is super active. The fluid surrounding her cushions, protects and warms her as she grows, so be sure to drink plenty of water to maintain her health and yours. During her waking hours try to keep count of how many time she kicks and moves. It is a way to track her well being and activity patterns.

Though your baby's growth in your body is a wonderful thing, there are some real discomforts. There may be body aches and headaches and leg cramps, which may be somewhat countered by warm baths, stretches, rub downs and rest. Be very careful about what you eat and how it is prepared. Making sure preparation surfaces are clean and food is low in salt, not processed, properly rinsed and fully cooked can go a long way for you and her.

"Come here."

Your step gingerly on the wooden floor and silently exhale as you get on the rug. Your feet are a little more swollen than usual today, and you wish you knew why. Oh, those salt and sour chips couldn't have done it, could it?

"Come on," August reaches out to you as he helps you to his favorite chair, and kneels to take off your shoes. "Honestly, sweetheart, leave those salt and sours alone."

"How did you know?"

He stretches up and kisses you. "Taste and smell." He chuckles and rubs your nose with his.

You roll your eyes as he continues going about his task. This has become a small ritual of late. He reclines the chair, sits on an ottoman and rubs your feet for about five minutes, making a world of difference. You watch him lovingly, this gruff bear of a man who softens for you, and is willing to do something so sweet.

"Promise me, no more salt and sour chips."

"Okay—"

"Promise me, say it."

You give a unladylike snort. "I promise not to eat anymore salt and sour chips—"

He stops massaging your calves and looks at you. "For the rest of the pregnancy."

Your breath catches. "Seriously?"

"Punishable by no foot rubs and a good swat on your backside." His look hardens, and you realize this is his Daddy look. Oh, you poor girl, you tell your unborn daughter mentally...

"Alright, no more salt and sour chips for the rest of the pregnancy." You say it, but you are pouting the whole time.

"That's my girl," he rises, and kisses your forehead. "I want to talk to you about something."

"What?"

"Becoming a foster for pets—"

"I like my work, August!" you stand, feeling baited into relaxing before he attacks again about this issue. "I like being there!"'

"I know," he doesn't stand. God, he looks pitiful. "but your feet wouldn't swell so much—"

"I'm adjusting," you say evenly. "I need a little more time."

"What are you going to do when you reach the last trimester?" He asks. "It's weeks away and you could gain a lot of weight."

"As long as we are okay, I don't see a problem," you tell him. "and you don't have to rub my feet if you don't want to. I have that foot bath thing upstairs."

He rises, looking hurt. "I don't mind, I just...I'd like you to take it easy, that's all."

"We. Are. Fine!" And then he does his worst. He brings out the big guns-he takes me in his arms and strokes my hair, allowing me to inhale that unique yet irresistible scent of his while using his chest for a standing pillow-and I sag against him. "August—"

"What?" his voice is a soft purr.

"That isn't fair, you're not being fair!" you whine as he gently rocks you.

"I want you to seriously consider it."

"Okay, I'll seriously consider it."