Thursday, 17 January 2013

No, how are YOU feeling?

Everything's great! I love being pregnant! 

That's what I SHOULD say, I assume.  As opposed to my normal response:

No, how are YOU fucking feeling?

And I usually say it with a snotty attitude that makes people want to punch my face. 

I'm sorry guys, but it's not easy having everyone constantly questioning me about the human-growing factory that my body has become.  Anyone who knows I'm pregnant can't seem to talk to me about anything else. 

I know it's a big deal, and I know people are excited for me, and yes I totally appreciate their interest and concern.  The problem seems to arise when people who wouldn't normally stop by my desk, or people who wouldn't normally tell me I need to be taking it easy, start doing exactly that. 

I much prefer the people who just pretend I'm not pregnant at all.  Like my boss.  It's so easy.  I can complain or whine (my specialties) whenever I feel like it, but he's not babying me.  Or like Momma, who must be dying to hear all the details but is totally leaving me be (thanks Mom). 

Or, alternatively, people who ask heartfelt questions out of apparently genuine interest.  I don't mind those people.  Like one coworker today who actually requested to see my ultrasound picture, as if it was somehow different from every other ultrasound picture in the history of ultrasound pictures.  That was nice of him. 

I think my problem is primarily with the randoms (who don't really want to hear the truth anyway), or the constants (who are deathly curious and/or have nothing else to say).

In any case, I'll try to lighten up.  But if people really want to know, here's the truth on how I am:

I'm grumpy more often than not. 
Pregnancy hormones and a tendency to feel depressed don't go well together. 
I can't take Advil for my headaches, but Tylenol just isn't as good.
I need to go to sleep every night by 9 if I want to survive the following day. 
I'm breathless all the time, simply upon standing, or talking, or walking. 
I'm having aversions to all my go-to foods, leaving me with nothing to eat. 
I'm impatient to feel the baby move and to know boy or girl, BOY OR GIRL! 
My pants don't fit and my bras pinch and I hate shopping even more than I hate tight pants and pinchy bras. 

On the upside:

We ordered a crib the other day and bought some paint.
Hubby is totally tolerating my absurdity, which is very sweet of him. 
Oh, and apparently the baby can hear me now, so I have someone to listen to me complain - someone who can't get away, and who won't judge me.  Yet. 

So it's not all bad. 

Tuesday, 1 January 2013

Phase one of growing a tiny human

In case you missed my post the other day, I'm totally preggers you guys.  Full on growing a tiny human over here. 

Because I was desperately missing my blog and twitter outlet during the whole "try to keep this GIANT NEWS a secret for three entire months" time frame, I kept a brief diary in my kickass iPhone. 

Here are my earliest entries:

October 27

Miss Sarcasm arrived to visit me last night! We went to dinner and ate unpasteurized cheese and drank a glass of wine.  "Are you pregnant?" the waiter asked.  Nope! Bring on the bacteria cheese and alcohol!

But in the back of my mind? My period was due today... and yet, no sign of it...

October 28

Ok no period.  Must go to the drug store.  Then shopping and lunch with Miss Sarcasm!

I thought I'd take the test later tonight, once we went to bed.  But when I got home from lunch, I just couldn't wait any longer.  So I peed.  And guess what. 

1-2 what?  Children?

HOLY FUCK.  I was totally not expecting that.  I even bought 2 tests, because I'd need one of them next time, right?  Doesn't it take months and months to get pregnant? It's been maybe three months.  And I'm pretty sure we didn't even understand the precise timing requirements for the first two months.  So lucky...

And of course I couldn't even wait two minutes to tell Hubby.  Even though he was in the bathroom. 

"Hubby! Come out! I have something to tell you!"

When he walked out, I just said it.  "I'm pregnant!"  Then I hysterically laughed and waved a pee stick in his face and he just shouted "Are you serious?!" over and over while I freaked out. 

(Then for about 2 weeks after that, every single time he and I caught each other's eye, we'd raise our eyebrows, pull our cheeks back showing our teeth, and inhale deeply, to reveal an awkward panicked smile-type laugh.  Every. Single. Time.)

October 28

Oh, poor Hubby has to scoop the kitty litter.  SUCKER. 

Turns out, though, that I have to give up ALL THE THINGS.  What the fuck?  I can't even have a scalding hot bath - my favourite type of bath.  And yummy bacteria cheese? Gone.  And WINE. I can't even talk about wine. 

On the up-side, I get to use pregnancy as an excuse for pretty much everything.  So there's that.

October 29

I'm a mess. Fucking student doctor scaring the shit out of me and still managing to NOT answer a single one of my questions directly. I'm surely guilty for anything that goes wrong. This is too much responsibility.

October 31

And the hormones begin!  So emotional. Freak out at work and irritable with Hubby too. Not that that's any different, really, come to think of it.

Otherwise?  No symptoms!  No sore nipples, no sickness, no anything. I'm like one of those freaks who wouldn't know she's pregnant until a baby appeared in the toilet. (Which SERIOUSLY happened to a girl at my office. She really just thought she'd gained weight and had stomach problems. Until she gave birth in her bathroom. Then she called her mom. WHOA.)

I have to keep reminding myself that I haven't had my period. That's really the only proof for christsakes. 

November 7

I can't poop! That is so not like me.  I'm a pooping expert. 

And a nosebleed? What the fuck is that?

But Hubby found a random sign today, which is super exciting.

November 8

It's a sad day when I have to eat my cats' Metamucil.

November 9

I told hubby I wanted a girl.  A boy would be fine too, but I don't know what to do with a boy. Changing a diaper with one of those little things pointing at me would be super weird.

Later, Hubby spent a good five minutes crawling around on the kitchen floor, following me as I walked around, trying to hook my feet with the long string that he pulled out of his hoodie. Aaaannnddd this what having boys is like, then?

November 10

Are you in there little fetus? In 9 months will you come greet us? I will buy you some Adidas...

Oh, Phoebe.

More to come! Let the illness begin...