the honeymoon of pregnancy

Is over. If there was a pleasant time that they write about on the websites and in every pregnancy book out there- it’s the Second Trimester, where all is OK with the world and pregnancy is more tolerable than the first trimester and from what I’m gathering, the third is no picnic either. I am now approaching 32 weeks pregnant. I am 31 weeks and 3 days pregnant. According to some random website I read yesterday, right now my baby is the size of “four navel oranges” though G and I both are leaning more towards 5 oranges in this particular instance.

After yesterday’s initial searing back pain experience in the morning, the day was riddled with get up/sit down at work. Normally I like this fact- because I don’t sit on my A$$ all day- I am required to move which is good. But yesterday I did not want to stand or walk. I didn’t want to sit either. I don’t know what I wanted really other than to feel more comfortable. I believe my abdominal muscles are separating themselves with every breath I take and ripping away from whatever it is they’re attached to at the top of my belly.  I have indigestion when I haven’t eaten anything, and indigestion when I have. Basically I woke up yesterday feeling like crap and knowing that this is just the beginning of the crapiness that will ensue henceforth for the next two months.

Another pair of pants doesn’t fit and I”m certain that if someone sliced off my belly, AND sliced off my ass, they would be roughly about the same circumference and size, if you laid them both flat on a table.  And of course, I have the lovely sweet knock-knock-knockings of the baby in my belly to remind me that the stomach will eventually flatten somewhat. But my rear-end on the other hand…well I just try to avoid mirrors these days, because I’ve also noticed my double-chin’s come back out to play. God I hope the baby doesn’t inherit this chin.

So last night I had a mini-breakdown on the front porch and began reminiscing all of the things that made me ME before I was with-child. I started thinking about how much more time I have to be pregnantand how much bigger I’m going to get. I thought about how we don’t have anyone to watch the baby after he’s born and I have to go back to work. I thought about how I nearly punched G in Target earlier in the evening when he started complaining that I was taking too long picking out a new set of towels for the bathroom, and how I didn’t end up getting the ones I really wanted because I was being too rushed. I thought about the skinny pregnant lady who looked me up and down and wondered to herself “how far along is that large redhead”? She might as well have said it out loud.  I just started to think about all the things I”m excited to do when I’m not pregnant anymore- not the baby things that every mom thinks of- snuggling and cuddling and feeding and nuzzling…but the things I can’t wait to do when I’m no longer pregnant. And then I started crying harder as I realized I will probably not have time to do all of them. Here’s the beginning of that list.

Things I can’t wait to do

  • walk/run
  • not crave/eat carbs 6x per day 
  • get a normal Mandy haircut that is flattering to my face
  • sleep on my stomach
  • not collect crumbs on my stomach/boobs every time I eat
  • go dancing
  • have a glass of wine or a mixed drink.
  • have several and get a buzz
  • “piss like a racehorse”
  • situps (So. Many. Situps)
  • breathe
  • play volleyball
  • play tennis
  • have normal (responsible) adult relations with the man who got me into this situation
  • feel pretty or attractive for just a few hours or something
  • re-organize the basement (G did it himself and I disagree with his method)
  • not waddle (this will have to wait until my thighs thin down)
  • go camping and canoeing
  • go on a mini vacation (will have to wait forever before I can take more time off work i’m sure)
  • read a book that has nothing to do with pregnancy or babies
  • wear normal underpants again (if my bottom half thins down)
  • wear normal clothes again (ditto above)
  • get rid of these red blotches on my face neck and arms (either by laser or by magical-you’re-not-pregnant-anymore-so-they-disappear-means which is much cheaper)
  • take a bath where the bath water covers my stomach
  • go to an OSU football game

I realize they all sound selfish and they are selfish and that was the idea with that exercise. In addition to that list there is a long list of things I can’t wait to do with the baby but for right now I am entitled (yea I said entitled) to complain because I can literally FEEL The shift of hormones ramping up for the last leg of this pregnancy and they make me insane. That being said, the number one thing I can’t wait to have back is my regular HORMONE LEVELS so I am not an insane crying emotional  maniac all the time. I don’t know when this is going to happen but I can’t.wait.  I hate feeling so emotional wishy washy awful. I hate crying at every song on the radio. I realize that it will likely get worse and peak after the baby is born but at least there is an end in sight.  I think it freaks G out now that he’s seen me cry like a handful of times and most people who know me haven’t seen me cry that often in the many many years that they’ve known me.

Speaking of which, I could just sit on my front porch and spend the rest of the day crying and sleeping and be completely satisfied with that today, but I can’t take a mental-health-day off work because I have to save up for this maternity leave so I should go. I’m sorry to be such a Debbie Downer but I’m just not like some people who bask in the glory of pregnancy. I don’t understand those people.



So tonight we went to Lowe’s. Again. We needed different screws to finish putting up our borrowed pot-rack in the kitchen.

I’ve had a bad couple of days. I think G picked up on this last night when I couldn’t sleep and tonight when I got home he wasn’t playing video games. Instead he was making suggestions on things we could do. Here were my options for entertainment tonight:

“We could hang up the pot-rack, I’ll need your help with that.”

“We could warm up that leftover pizza and make ravioli.”

“Or we could go out to eat, but we do have leftovers.”

“Or we could watch the rest of that movie and then watch another movie that we have here…”

So I said, “Sure- because my other options are sleeping and….staring.”

So we heated up pizza. He made ravioli. We started to hang the pot rack and the screws didn’t work. So we went to Lowe’s. And as we’re walking up and down the aisles at Lowe’s looking for more heavy duty screws, I hear the song
“You are the Sunshine of my Life” and start to cry because dammit, this is a depressing way to live. No wonder people don’t want to hang out with us. There used to be a million fun things to do on any given night. And now I’m at Lowe’s in my pajama pants feeling like the skin on my stomach is stretching so far it will never, ever bounce back without some sort of surgical help eventually. I can’t really explain this to G or my mom or anyone because people don’t quite get it. Or, I just want to start crying and would rather not end up blubbering so it’s just easier not to talk about it.

I just honestly can’t believe that this is it. This cannot be “it” for me. People who don’t own homes shouldn’t spend this much time at Lowe’s. Sad part? I was excited just to get out of the house.

Anyways, I’m no fun to be around. I wish I could sleep until August.

And all day today I wanted a cigarette today as badly as I did on the first day I quit. I think cigarettes might have been my actual friends before. At least there were 20 of them per pack. At least if I was bored then I could say, “I’m smoking” even if I was sitting and staring.

blog vomit & house tour.

Okay- so I feel like I have a lot to say, but lately every time I post I spend the next two days thinking, “Why didn’t you read over that?” or “What’s wrong with you???”…my “voice” doesn’t sound right. It’s because my voice has become overwrought with hormones and the constant feeling of someone swimming inside my belly. I can’t really think of much else to be honest. If I show up in the right place at the right time for work or anything else, I consider that success. The rest of life I’m just floating through, hoping I don’t overdraw my checking account and making sure I take the time to appreciate the quiet that comes with a day off and nothing really pressing to do. Because I know that eventually that will end. The quiet part. And the not-having-anything-to-do part.

So what did I do today on my day off? Well I had lunch with a good friend who I don’t get to see much anymore. Since leaving the other library branch I worked at I have sorely missed the people there.  I wish I got to see them all more- but more often I wish I got to WORK with them more.  There was something about the Chi in that place that I love. Anyways. I had a good lunch. And it was a GORGEOUS day. 73 degrees even! Sunshine- all of it. I had taken a good long look at my checkbook and decided to splurge on a pedicure. I went to one of those cheap asian places because a) I’m cheap and b) I’m pretty sure the fumes won’t hurt Thumbkin anymore than the cigarettes did the first few weeks I was prego. So that was nice. I now have springy pretty toenails and (whoops) nicely manicured fingernails. (I fell for the inadvertent upsell to include the fingernails in the package.) I’m glad I did though.

Then I went to the grocery store and bought stuff to grill out tonight since it’s so nice out. I love grilling out. I just prepare it, and G cooks it. It’s awesome. And I got STEAKS. mmmmm. More meat off the bone, my favorite.

Then I attempted to take some pictures of myself.  And I’m wearing a very cute dress I got at a consignment shop really cheap. But I look huge in these pictures. Here they are. I am coming up on 23 weeks here.  The laptop no longer sits properly on my stomach and G thinks it’s going to radiate the baby. 

WHOA! 23 weeks.

23 weeks

 So I think I look bigger here. I definitely look bigger in this next one.

WHOA! 23 weeks.   I dearly hope it’s the angle at which I”m forced to take these pictures of myself but something tells me it’s not. And I need to start lifting weights with my “home gym” (as G calls it). That means, lifting the 5 and 10 pound dumb bells that sit and collect dust next to the television set. I hate arm fat.

Okay enough self deprecation for one post let’s move on:

As I mentioned before, we moved. Here are some additional pictures of our new place.  We are nowhere near “finished” but it’s a start and it feels more and more like home each day. We love it.

Living Room, one of them
Living Room, one of them
Sitting on the couch
Sitting on the couch
Empty Front Room/Front door
Empty Front Room/Front door
Empty Front Room/more bookshelves
Empty Front Room/more bookshelves
Guest bedroom
Guest bedroom
Our bedroom
Our bedroom

And yes, you’re right it does look like most of my stuff is hand me downs and YES it does look somewhat minimalistic without much stuff on the walls…including paint. But we rent. We are having a baby that we think may develop normally with only 1-2 framed-at-home posters of cheap art instead of actual nice stuff. So there.  Speaking of which, you may be wondering, “Where will Thumbkin sleep?” If you take a good look at the picture of our room, there’s lots of room for a basinett (sp?) next to my side of the bed (woo hoo for 2 hour naps instead of full nights of sleep). And eventually, when I grow out of my fat clothes, the baby will have his own room here:

Baby Room/Maternity Clothes closet/Mandy's Dressing Room
Baby Room/Maternity Clothes closet/Mandy's Dressing Room

It’s almost as big as my parents’ clothes closet and you’re looking at the only piece of furniture we’ve acquired thus far. We have other furniture coming from GRACIOUS family members who are donating it. Otherwise I was all about having Thumbkin sleep in an empty dresser drawer that we could line with nice throw blankets or something. I mean SHIT that stuff is expensive?!  But if you look closely at this picture, you can see the “theme” is animals. We’re fond of monkeys and sheep. I know they don’t really coexist in any habitat that we’re aware of but they’re cute as hell, right?

And when he arrives, and he finally gets to sleep in his own room, we’ll be putting him in this:

"Chillin' in my crib" -- the coolest shirt ever.