Trimester 1 is somehow done and this delinquent blogger was, well… delinquent.

Believe it or not, I have a life outside of this blog and being the baddest surro-hub ever. I know, breathe. The shock will pass just like the heart palpitations.

Anyway — trimester two. At this point, surrogacy looks and feels (from everyone’s perspective) an awful lot like regular old pregnancy; just an ordinary miracle at this point. Nothing to see here, folks; move along, move along.

I feel awful for my wife, I do. Here we are on vacation in South Carolina with some of both of our favorite cuisines available in the abundant barbecue options and she can hardly choke down a Chobani yogurt drink. We go through a sad routine of her getting super excited about the next meal, only to stab a forkful and siiiiiiiggghhh… and slide the plate over to me or the kids. This is sad for me. My wife and I love food. If you’re thinking you might love food more than either of us, you’re wrong. But not just any food. Good food. Authentic food. Sometimes “authentic” means “an authentic medium McDonald’s fry” but that’s a rare exception. Usually it translates to “we spend lots of time perfecting things at home so they taste like they do where we ate them” or, if it’s just too lofty, we respect the fact that some foods are beyond the level of effort/expense/time/etc. that we can reasonably manage so we don’t try. Like really good churros made in the Mission District in San Fran. Or an exceptional smash burger, the variety, not the chain. Another great example is hibachi — we can do it at home, but we don’t because mess and that huge grill we wont use for enough other things. You get it.

In SC, the barbecue fits this bill perfectly. These are grandma’s grandma’s recipes and things my wife usually powers through with incredible efficiency. This trip? Siiiiiggghh… *pass*. It’s tragic. I’m mourning for her while I enjoy my pulled pork and collard greens like a champ. Hey, sympathy preggo-queasiness is not a thing. Sorry, not sorry, babe. This is definitely a “forgiveness over permission” situation. She’ll recover. Someday.

South Carolina is one of our favorite places. Every time we’re here, we experience something new. There’s always new food, activities, poolside antics, etc.

Our “first” this time? Feeling baby squish move.