Tuesday, July 21, 2009

Overshare of the day

I was sitting in the tub last night, trying to relax and wound up reading a baby book. I was looking all throughout the 34 week section trying to find something that would give me reassurance that I will not, as I fear, be pregnant forever and that maybe, just maybe, this baby will make his grand appearance in the world a few weeks early. It's wishful thinking, I know, and really all I came out of the chapter with was the assurance that what I have been feeling isn't contractions after all, but only false labor. Apparently it's very common with your 2nd pregnancy. Yippie.

As if that wasn't depressing enough, I very nicely asked DH if he would be so kind as to help me... ahem, tidy up the baby area (the baby belly blocks my view) since I have an ob appointment this morning and they have to do a swab of the aforementioned region. I figured it was the least he could do, considering he's the one who got me into this predicament. His reaction? "Are you shitting me??" He then laughed and left to go buy a 12 pack. I decided that his assistance would not be required, as it was probably in my best interest not to mix a razor and alcohol. I stubbornly dragged a full-length mirror into the bathroom and after many tears, many dropped f-bombs, and 55 minutes, I emerged feeling somewhat presentable to go the doctor. It may seem odd, but us knocked-up chicks don't have much dignity left by this point in our pregnancy (and the shred that is left will be gone after labor) so it's really the little things that count.

R was up again last night whimpering for hours. I wound up turning off the monitor and bringing her to bed with us because it's not like I was sleeping anyways with her cries echoing in surround sound around our bedroom. I really think she is cutting her 2nd set of molars. Or at least I hope that's the issue. The whimpering continued until the Motrin I gave her kicked in, and I was laying there staring at the clock on the ceiling (I got a projection alarm clock for Mother's Day. Don't ask.), tired as hell, I had the sudden realization that OHMIGOD, WE'RE GOING TO HAVE A NEWBORN SOON. Now you would think that this would have dawned on me the moment I peed on a stick and saw the heart-stopping PREGANT pop up in all it's oh-shit glory, but no. From the get go, all I've wanted is for this pregnancy to hurry itself up. First trimester, go away fast, I'm sick of sporatically gagging and feeling like a zombie. Second trimester, get over with, I want to know what we're having. Third trimester, get your ass over with, this thing is sucking the life out of me, I can't breathe, I can't eat, and I'm constantly effing hot. I don't think I ever truly grasped the concept of having another new life to care for, especially now that R is in her Toddler Tantrum mode. I nearly had a panic attack right then - 4:24 am, laying on my six pillows with a 17 month old's foot in my jugular. I still need to process it all. More on that revelation later though, as I'm off to the doctor. Let's hope I've started to dilate. <----- See? Still trying to hurry it along....

1 comment:

  1. Oh I LOVE, LOVE, LOVE that you started a blog! You have always been such a great writer, putting everything into detail so that the reader can visually experience your words. And this post was awesome and hilarious to read! I literally laughed out loud many times...definitely during the tub incident; I can totally see that happening with you and Derek. And super cute blog name my dear creative friend! I'm linking you on my blog. ;)