After ten days of me, my son, and my husband taking turns being sick, I’ve decided that this pregnant thing is getting old. There is still the one joy to look forward to–the baby–which keeps me upbeat enough to endure. But I am ready to be done with the rest of the experience.
The rest of the experience includes:
1. Making mammoth efforts to pick up things with my feet when I drop them to avoid bending over. I drop a lot of things these days. I can pick up socks, wrappers, superhero figurines, envelopes, magazines, kitty treats, pens, and shoes with my feet. I cannot pick up bottles of lotion, bananas, cameras, my purse, hardcover books, or water bottles with my feet. Not for lack of trying.
2. Sharp, shooting pains to . . . everywhere. Accompanied by grunts and groans that would annoy a gorilla.
3. Bouncing Jack’s poor little head off my belly like he’s the tennis ball and I’m the racket. It happens whenever we are standing a few inches away from each other and we’re both trying to get from a point A to a point B. He’s the perfect height to ricochet off my tummy several times a day. Sorry, Jacky McBoing Boing.
4. Desperately wishing that I won’t, but knowing in my gut that I am going to hit 200 pounds before this baby is born. I’m wearing my wedding rings on a chain around my neck. I’ve outgrown my maternity clothes twice. My SOCKS feel tight. If I’m wearing jeans and I’m walking fast, I’m afraid I’ll start a friction fire. My ears have gained weight. A few weeks ago Jack touched my emerging third chin and asked, "Mommy, what IS this?" You get the idea.
5. Uncontrollably peeing my pants every time I cough, sneeze, laugh, or make any other sudden moves. We were recently visiting our new niece at the hospital and Brett said something that started me laughing. I couldn’t stop. I peed my way from the hallway to the nearest bathroom. I dropped my purse OUTSIDE the bathroom door and shed my coat on the bathroom floor to make it to the potty on time. I did not make it on time, however. I had to sit on said coat for the duration of the drive home to avoid more of a mess. Kegels have been a bit of a help, but they did nothing for me that night. Ever had someone ask you what your most embarrassing moment was? This one ranks pretty high on my list.
Two weeks left? Five? Seven? Who knows? Tie-Dye, you go on and choose your birthday. Heck, take your time. I’ll wait. But you’ve got to know something about your mama, straight out of the gate. I’ll tolerate just about anything. I just won’t tolerate it quietly.
Go on, ask Daddy and Jack. They’ll tell ya.