In the middle of week thirty-two (!!) and things are starting to happen that people have warned me about all along. They didn’t happen earlier in my pregnancy, and so I thought I was just lucky…well, except for the morning sickness junk.
One thing you should know, don’t EVER be mean to me or look at me in a funky way because I’ll cry and then you’ll be sorry. I cry at everything. Sheldon told me he’d be in San Antonio this week for work (a normal occurrence at our household) and I thought I would have an emotional breakdown. Ok, I did have an emotional breakdown, hence my trip to San Antonio with him.
Sophie was bee-bopping around in my belly making it move from the outside and Sheldon didn’t stare at my stomach as long as I thought he should, so I cried. At the time it seemed very legitimate. It’s serious business in the actual moment, but later I’ll think, “Did I really cry about that?” I have to stick a compliment in at this point for Sheldon. He’s been really great at handling my mood swings. He can generally calm me down or make me feel better within the hour of my breakdowns.
Another fun thing that happens at this point in pregnancy is the inability to bend over longer than two seconds. For instance, the majority of my pregnancy has been in the summer. Summer = HOT in Texas. I love the water. The problem? I can’t go in public in a bathing suit without shaving my legs. If you’ve never been pregnant, have you ever thought about how complicated it would be to shave your legs while holding a baby on your lap? I never did. Waxing scares the crud out of me. I’m afraid I’ll go into labor from the pain of the experience. So unless you want to go swimming with Big Foot, you won’t see me at the local pool this summer.
In addition to not being able to shave effectively, there’s no way I can reach my toes long enough to polish them. I could just fling some polish in that direction and see if it splatters in a flattering pattern. Or I could make a pedicure appointment…yah, maybe I’ll do that.
Lastly for now, I finally have my appetite back, but I can’t eat that much. Grrr. I’ll want to order a giant bowl of pasta with an entire loaf of bread and salad for myself. I’ll be full with two bites of pasta, one torn off piece of bread, and three bites of salad. And the kicker? I’m hungry an hour later.
Is it selfish to say I want my body back? I’m so happy to be pregnant and be able to feel my little girl’s kicks and squirms, but I’m just so ready for her to be here! Only eight more weeks Sophie!
Sophie should be about 3.75 pounds and 16.7 inches long. BabyCenter says she already has toenails, fingernails, and real hair. Her skin is also becoming soft and smooth, and she’s fattening up for the outside world.
2 comments:
Hahahahaha! I laughed all the way through this, and read some of it to Jon. Poor guys; they're troopers.
I have to say, though I have cried more lately, I've sort of swung the other way and gotten mad at everything/everyone. I'm not that pleasant to be around. I figured I would put a post up about that eventually, but who wants to admit it?
You're almost there!
Yah, I didn't admit the part about getting mad more often. But since you're doin' it too, I don't feel like such an evil person admitting to it! :D We're almost to the finish line!
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