I need to tell you all about my week, because it was a giant shit-show -- but not the kind that's actually tragic. More like the kind where I'll laugh about it once I regroup. Like in year or something.
I should have known this week was coming. If I'd been cognitive about it, I'd have definitely thought that maybe one day this week would happen, but not the entire effing week. Basically, someone dropped one of those flaming bags of poo on my front door step and I fell for it -- I stomped all over the shit-bag. Not literally, but stay with me for a second. Here's what it is: I had, for one single millisecond, the fleeting thought that maybe I'm not ready to have a baby -- this is the flaming bag. Then, all of the adrenaline centers of my brain lit up - recognized fire - and that's when I began stomping all over the place. Because this is when I realized that we have an emergency on our hands -- a baby is coming. And here's something I forgot to be afraid of: I have to deliver it. And it will hurt.
What was I thinking on that day when I got pregnant? Did I even consider for a second that diapers are kind of expensive, and that having a baby makes me a parent and there's no going backwards in time?! I did not think this through.
Then, I had a meltdown and asked Ryan if he still thinks I'm attractive while I'm pregnant. He laughed at me, but he doesn't know that I tried on every single dress in my closet and only one of them still fits. Dresses that were roomy and stretchy and that, when I found out I was pregnant, I thought, Oh for sure, I'll be able to wear that when I'm huge. Ryan was himself about it -- annoyingly calm -- and told me to chill the eff out because he likes big butts and he cannot lie.
I mean, don't worry -- I'm fine now. I was talking with Ry about it a few days ago and basically, I'm completing my evolutionary purpose by reproducing which should be a relief. A little check off the old to-do list. But mostly I just remembered that I'll have a one month old baby for halloween and I still have the next several months to decide how I'll dress this little turkey up.
Okay - onward to the part that isn't about neurosis. Sort of.
PS - George superman'd off my kitchen table and this is what surprise looks like.
How far along? 23 Weeks.
Total weight gain: Full disclosure: I'm up a total of 22lbs at press time.
Maternity clothes? Full time. Except for that one dress, obviously.
Stretch marks? Not yet! Fingers crossed!
Sleep: This is actually really good. I only sleep on my side now, which is fine. And I guess the best part is that I don't feel as exhausted as I did earlier in pregnancy. I can finally wake up without feeling dead and simultaneously stay up past 10pm. Game changer -- it's like the day got longer.
Best moment this week: When Ryan suggested that I could probably deliver without an epidural. I thought, it's nice to laugh, isn't it?
Miss Anything? Fitting in my clothes. Like, you know those ads you see for maternity clothes and the moms have this cute basketball belly, but in conjunction with totally slim hips and the thighs of a 12-year old? Those are FALSE, you guys. And I feel really victimized by the media and its obsession with photoshop. I'm kidding, but seriously -- I got pregnant and turned into a Kardashian, so those ads that seem like pregnancy is just wearing your regular jeans with an extra large shirt are kind of hilarious to me.
Movement: I may be overreacting, but i just don't think I have a super active baby. I feel him move around in there, but it's more like I feel him turning or readjusting, rather than kicking. I work with this girl that's also pregnant -- her baby is like, friggin' tap dancing on the regular in there. I'm not really bothered by his lack of activity, just self-diagnosing him as a lazy little shit. Hopefully this means he'll be a sleeper though when he arrives on the outside.
Food cravings: I've been eating a lot of tomatoes with salt and pepper, and also a bowl of oil and vinegar cucumbers. This constitutes my after-work-pre-dinner snack, but from there I go rogue. Actually, if Ry isn't home, I'll cook myself a steak. I've really been trying to control my desire for candy and I'd be willing to suggest this is my most admirable achievement ever. Even more impressive than graduating college. I've really taken the sugar down a notch -- so I'm self-kudoing.
Anything making you queasy or sick: Nope. I feel really normal, and quite honestly, not even pregnant.
Labor Signs: I have officially starting having braxton hicks, which isn't a big deal right now, says the internet. They don't hurt or anything, but it is totally weird and science fiction-y to feel my entire stomach seize.
Symptoms: Well, I'm hormonal, clearly. And becoming bat shit crazy. Also, I'm becoming stupid. Pregnancy brain is a real thing.
Belly Button in or out? Still in there.
Wedding rings on or off? On, but they are getting tight again.
Happy or Moody most of the time: You know, I feel pretty good and I'd say I err on the side of happy most often. But I will be honest and recognize that pregnancy has really limited my general sense of patience. I get annoyed and frustrated much easier, and I'm a lot quicker to throw up my hands and say 'fuck it."
Looking forward to: We're painting the baby's room this weekend, and I'm looking so forward to starting to prepare a space where my baby will grow up. I'm getting a little dreamy about it, imagining that he'll slam that door when he's mad and someday the walls that I lovingly paint will probably be covered in posters and whatever stuff teenage boys use to "express themselves." Ryan reminded me that he'll probably hide porn somewhere in the closet fourteen-ish years from now. I rolled my eyes until I could see Jesus. Because by fourteen, what he means is seventeen, right? Right!?
It's fun to think about the future.
Happy Saturday!
0 comments