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.