I am officially and undeniably knocked up! And my cozy state of being is all askew and I don't feel like myself anymore. (Nooo, not the person who used to earn a living, and not even the person who came after that...)
My regular clothes don't fit and the maternity stuff looks deflated. Guess what part of me is not deflated? Besides my tummy? We're talking floatation device and its seriously throwing me off balance.
When said-British friend told me I was bloomin', my mouth started watering as my mind wandered to the blooming onion in a Homer Simpson moment. The appetite is roaring. The sense of smell is supercharged. The bladder...well, the bladder's not really pulling his weight. So at four am, after three nocturnal pees, I have seriously contemplated the merit of adult diapers. But its just mother nature preparing me, right?
Maybe the lack of peaceful sleep has put me on a hormonal roller coaster. Mostly its elation, but sometimes I go off on people like yesterday when I told my neighbor to "stop face-booking with my husband so much. God!" That was uncalled for and I will apologize if my kid doesn't get sick from his kid. My husband is also the beneficiary of many unprovolked pleasantries and might be wondering how to escape before too long.
Don't feel too bad for him, though. MMA is cock strutting amongst the roosters on our block. A few months ago at a guys' poker game, before the origination of this pregnancy (but close enough to make the story good) he foretold that when he decided it was time for us to have another baby, I would be pregnant. I can imagine the caveman wordmess that went on. Or perhaps he did his Master Yoda impression for the boys, "Do or do not...There is no try." I'll give him his fifteen minutes but virility does not exempt him from middle of the night duties.
And then there's Only Child. I'm starting to feel some kind of strange betrayal and empathy for him.
He knows a baby is coming, he knows this is going to be exciting...but I know he won't be prepared for the reality that he's going to have to share me forever and he won't even get an equal cut at first. He's already noticed that I don't pick him up as much as before and I've been too tired to play with him as intently as we used to. Yes, I know there's so much joy to look forward to, I just hope he doesn't feed the baby to the wolves before he falls in love with it. Maybe I should start ignoring him now, you know, to build up his endurance. (And not at all because I'm worried about my piece of pie.)
All silliness aside, I'm so thankful for all the joys that come with being pregnant and the promise of a new little life. I'm excited and happy and desperately anxious to know if "it" is a he or a she.
And my wonderful husband just went to pick up a movie that I've been wanting to see so its good night, and you stay classy.
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