It’s not a secret, whether you know me IRL or via the internet, that I am not an especially happy pregnant person. The lack of happy pills and alcohol, plus weight gain and the general “OH-DEAR-GOD-WHAT-HAVE-WE-DONE” feeling, recently collided and made me quite the miserable person to be around. (I mean, normally I am Susie-Fucking-Sunshine…haha!)
I recently posted this, and got the appropriate responses of either fear, support, or simply people agreeing with me. I loved all the responses, mainly because it seemed as though people were listening to me. I hoped that I could just leave be left alone. I wanted to curl up in a ball and hide from the world. I hurt all day, every day, awful body aches that made it feel as though I had the flu. I wasn’t sleeping well, and decided that my due date just had to be wrong, there was no way that I had 8 weeks of this left. I had nothing to give to my daughter, husband…hell, I couldn’t even bring myself to pet the Fonz. I decided the other day that this just could not be normal, and called my doctor.
I had gone back to work on Monday after an exhausting three day weekend. It didn’t feel exhausting at the time; until the drive home Sunday night and I fought back tears most of the way. I felt like such shit on Monday I left work early, convinced that I just had a bad cold and needed a nap. By Monday night, I was still all achy and tired and whiny and bitchy and moany, and it occurred to me to take my temperature. And it was 100.8. OK, nothing to start a fire over or anything, but HOLY CRAP…I REALLY AM SICK!! I couldn’t believe the thought had not occurred to me before. The reason why I had nothing to give and wanted to go to the hospital for a C-section RIGHT NOW was because I probably had the flu. Or, as my doctor’s nurse said, “A bug.”
This “bug” has been “bugging” me for a couple of weeks. It is the reason why, when my daughter gets those big belly laughs from Workaholic tickling her, I can barely manage a smile. It is the reason why I can’t even respond anymore when someone who I see every single day asks me at least three times a week when I am due and then doesn’t believe me because I am so huge.
Now, don’t get me wrong. I am still going to talk to my doc about the possibility of depression creeping into this pregnancy. I will take his little 10 question quiz to see if I am certifiable. Because I don’t like it when people laugh out loud at me when someone suggests that I cook. And I don’t like the fact that my MIL gently says, “Well, you really aren’t a high energy person to begin with, you are so laid back.” (translation: LAZY) And I don’t like the fact that my Tupperware cabinet is in such disarray, but I just keep the door closed and try no to think about it. I don’t want to be a lazy, disorganized, non-cooking person…I just don’t seem to have the energy or motivation to fix those teensy-tiny, little areas of my life.
As with most of my posts, I am not quite sure where I am going with this. I guess just an update that while I am still pregnant, (32 weeks today!) and generally freaking out over things that need to be done (Hello…Tupperware? Or the much larger job of moving the office with its internet connections and blue walls so it can become Sam’s new bedroom.) I am generally surviving and getting better. I’ve been more tolerant of questions and observations about my pregnancy, and I’ve only had to take 2 Tylenol so far today for aches. I even fought the urge to shake my fist at the three cops who were taking up three, very very valuable parking spaces at Chipotle today during the lunch rush. (Yeah, I had to circle the building 5 times!) So thanks for sticking with me through the times where I was no fun and wanted to kill. I promise to try to be better.