THINGS MY CHILD WILL SAY IN FRONT OF ME, BUT NOT IN FRONT OF ANYONE ELSE, INCLUDING THE &$@* VIDEO CAMERA, WHICH MEANS ACCORDING TO THE LAWS OF BLOG IT'S LIKE HE NEVER SAID THEM AT ALL:
1. Hmmm. I know!
2. ONE MINUTE!
3. Dog! Dog! Where arrrrre you?
4. Won, Too, Tee, ready or not here I come!
5. Oh mah gawd!
WORDS MY CHILD CAN READ VIA THE REFRIGERATOR MAGNETS, BUT ONLY IN FRONT OF ME BUT I SWEAR, PEOPLE, I AM NOT MAKING THIS UP:
NUMBERS MY CHILD LEAVES OUT WHILE HE COUNTS TO TWENTY:
NUMBER OF TIMES IN THE PAST THREE DAYS I HAVE TACKLED MY CHILD, DIPPED HIM IN CADBURY CREME EGG FONDANT AND SWALLOWED HIM WHOLE:
I expected pregnancy to sort-of suck. I mean, honestly, it sucked last time too. Although I would probably never let myself use that word, since I still remember walking through the pregnancy and family planning section of the bookstore years ago, a massive dose of Clomid coursing through my system, and seeing that book called "Pregnancy Sucks." And I blinked and sniffed and thought, "Ungrateful bitches."
I keep saying that I feel better this time than I did with Noah, although Jason is often there behind me, shaking his head, because he thinks this go-round is just as awful. I'm not throwing up as much, that's for sure -- maybe four or five times total so far, with at least three of those times being more the fault of a skull-bashing migraine than traditional pregnancy nausea.
I didn't get migraines last time, though. Definitely not. And those of your who have ever suffered from migraines, pregnancy-related or otherwise, well -- you know. Migraines are more than a headache. They manage to hurt both before and after the actual head pain. You feel them in your shoulder blades, in your eyeballs, your stomach. Light hurts. Sound hurts. Movement hurts. After it goes away you're left exhausted and shaken and terrified that it will come back because you just can't fathom living through that kind of pain again. They have colored my entire world in dark, dismal hues that I can't see past right now.
I used to get migraines a lot -- in high school and my early twenties, mostly, when I was in the thick of eating disorders and jacked my blood sugar all up for the sake of size zero jeans. I never had a single headache once I got pregnant, though. The nausea was bad, I lost weight, I got slammed with anxiety attacks because OMG WHAT HAVE I DONE I DON'T KNOW WHAT TO DO WITH A BABY OH SHIT, but no headaches. And even at my sickest, I really did have a deep and profound appreciation for pregnancy and all the glorious suckitude that came with it -- even if I rarely admitted that yes, wow, this sure can suck sometimes.
This time, I am happily and completely anxiety-free. Dude, I WANT this baby. Jason and I both WANT this baby. Badly. We are, simply put, so fucking excited about having another squeaky little newborn here. Another year of fat baby thighs and rapid-fire milestones and we cannot wait to hear what this little being has to say when s/he starts talking, whenever s/he chooses to start talking.
In the meantime, though, I am impatient. I want the BABY. The CHILD. The little THING in my ARMS.
The migraines -- and I've had at least a dozen of them so far -- are worse than labor. Worse than the morning sickness. They take me away from Noah and turn me into a shitty, lazy mother who leaves the TV on all day and slacks on her writing deadlines and gets short and irritable with anyone and everyone. Some days I'm okay. I get a little caffeine and watch my blood sugar and use a cold compress at the first little twinge in my eye sockets. But then there are days when we're out of easy breakfast options and Noah needs to get to some activity and we're running late and I suddenly feel my stomach lurch and my shoulder blades hurt and I know I should go lie down and take it easy but I can't, I just can't.
And then Noah cries because we have to leave the park and I've yanked his arm too hard and scared him and Jason comes home and I yell at him to shut up and leave me alone when all he tried to do was talk about his day and make a suggestion about dinner and then because I've been in bed for hours I can't actually sleep at night and spend hours and hours pacing the house and watching crap TV until Noah wakes up exactly 20 minutes after I've managed to fall asleep.
The only pregnancy-approved painkiller option (besides Tylenol, pffffffft, I spit on you, aspirin has always been my drug of choice) would be narcotics, which my doctor doesn't want to prescribe unless the headaches continue beyond week 13, and honestly I don't really want narcotics either. Codeine, Vicodin...I don't mess with that shit when I'm NOT responsible for a vulnerable, developing being. I wouldn't fault anyone for turning to them, however, and I am not trying to be some kind of pregnant martyr, but they just aren't for me.
My parents are here this week, to help me out and care for Noah while I "rest" and "take it easy," although it's already translating more into "frantically digging myself out of the professional black hole I've made for myself over the past few half-assed weeks."
I wish I were writing funny stories about oh my gawd! Pregnancy Brain made me walk out of the house with no pants on! Ha ha ha! I wish I could look at my round belly with a sense of awe and wonder instead of, "Oh. It's just bloat. Whatever."
I wish I felt better. I wish I felt like a better mom right now. And a better pregnant lady. And less like an ungrateful bitch.
But pregnancy...well, it's not the baby. I get that this time around. I get that my attitude towards the whole messy gestating process does not mean I have the same attitude towards the baby. They're more separate this time, since last time I couldn't really fathom anything beyond pregnancy and the hypothetical idea of a newborn who would grow up into...a kid? A person? Pshaw! Crazy talk, that.
Maybe I have my priorities more in order this time? It's not about me and a big show-offy belly and prenatal massages and piles and piles of itty bitty clothes? It's about just one fleeting step in the process of being a family? The pain of struggling to build that family is still fresh, but doesn't sting as much, because I've already been blessed worlds and worlds over.
It's a miracle and a gift and exactly what I've wanted for ages now...but it's also kicking the living shit out of me. I have three weeks to go until the second trimester, I think, I hope. I also hope it will suck less.
Yeah, pregnancy sucks. But I am one grateful bitch.