Countdown to Birthing

OK, so I know that I’ve bitched alot about this pregnancy on this website. I also know that everyone else is aware that I AM EXCITED about having this baby and everything else that comes with it.

But this is getting fucking ridiculous:

3 nights without sleeping (unless you count doozing for about 30 to 40 minutes, then getting up to attempt to poop, then laying back down again as “sleeping”)

Insane belly pains, diagnosed by my doctor as gas. Seriously, if this is gas, I am fucking screwed when it comes to this labor stuff. I wonder if they will give you an epidural for gas.

Finally getting some meds for the never ending, 2-day long gas bubble, only for the gas to turn into a lovely array of diarrhea and vomiting. Usually at the same time.

Forcing myself to go to work because even if I stayed home there is some electrician man there all day and I just wouldn’t feel right pooping/puking/attempting to sleep while he is messing around with our wiring.

Actually deciding I could try and eat a PBJ sandwich, so I run home to get one. I get halfway around the block from my work and I have to turn back to poop.


The Belly Exposed (27 weeks)

OK, here it is…trust me, it’s much larger in person. And more charming.

27 weeks.jpg

Notice that sexy chick from one of Trent’s video games giving me the evil eye. She must be so jealous of the belly. I get looks like that all of the time. Don’tcha wish you had a belly like me?

Straight Out of a Woody Allen Script

A car breaks down on one of the busiest streets in the city. A big-ass pregnant girl gets out and attempts to push the car into the closest parking lot. In heels. Then, to the rescue, employees from Office Depot, the store to which the parking lot is adjacent, come running out of the store. Nametags and blue smocks flapping in the wind. They push the car into a parking space, and then wish the pregnant girl luck in getting it fixed.

The pregnant girl in the high heels realizes her gas gauge is broken. Maybe that’s the problem! She grabs her purse and walks 4 blocks, in high heels, to the nearest gas station. She buys a gallon gas container and a king size Three Musketeers. She fills the container with gas, and then heads back to the Office Depot, spilling gas all over her jeans, purse and high heeled shoes, but manages to save the Three Musketeers bar. She fills her tank with the gallon of gas. And, after an hour, she finally gets her car back on the road.

And I still can’t get the smell of gasoline out of my nose! My baby is going to come out smelling like petroleum.

In Preparation for the Doughnut Pillow I’ll be Sporting in a Few Months

Yesterday was my first ever prenatal yoga class. The hilarity of all of this is that I have never, ever taken a yoga class in my whole life, but now that I’m pregnant I figured it would be a great way to meet other pregnant people that I can talk to about being pregnant so I no longer have to share it with you, Internet. Seems to be working, huh?

I’d just like to let everyone know that even though the yoga session was quite relaxing and wonderful and even though the teacher picked on me because I can’t touch my toes or sit up strait, I had a great time. Mostly because I was SCREAMING AND LAUGHING inside at the several farts that slipped out of these poor women and at the nice lady who is to give birth in about 2 weeks that fell asleep during our last stretch. Snoring. Loudly. I know it’s mean, but it was SO FUCKING FUNNY!

I know. I’ll get mine. Just wait.

Guilty Pleasures

Today, when I called my husband to see how late he was working, I told him the damn baby has been kicking me all day. He asked me how I could go from not being sure if I could even feel the baby to feeling her kick in just a few days. Was I sure it was her? How did I know?

After I got off the phone I realized that I have only truly felt the baby (and realized it) for a day or two, and in those few days I have bitched about her kicking more times than I can count.

I just want to let it be known that I am a complete asshole, and although I have bitched repeatedly about the kicking, I have not mentioned the fact that feeling this baby kick me is one of the most INCREDIBLE, FANTASTIC feelings in the whole, wide world. Seriously. INCREDIBLE.

I’m not quite sure why I can’t just say that instead of bitching. Just know that when I cringe or snarl at the movement in my belly, I’m really thinking, “Oh, thank god. She’s still in there. Still moving around.” And when she goes for a couple of hours without a real kick, I miss her more than I’ve ever missed anything in my whole life. The cynic in me just won’t let me say it out loud.

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