Well, ladies, I got my first sling from Seven Slings today! Super cute! Obviously, I don’t yet have a baby so I can only comment about aesthetics for the time being, but as soon as my cat cooperates, I will report its efficiency when dealing with a very squirmy, four-legged creature. Close enough, right?
One of the things about pregnancy that I hate the most but also find the most useful is the insomnia. I am able to wake up at 4 am and accomplish things around the house before the Today show that I normally wouldn’t accomplish before noon. And while this annoys the bejesus out of me, I look forward to the afternoon naps. Oh, the naps.
I have been waking up at around 4 for about the entirety of my pregnancy. I find that the only way that I can sleep later is if we have a REALLY exhausting day and then I MIGHT make it until 7. And then I do a little jig. I wake up with a million thoughts running through my head. About cribs. And plans for moving. And car seats (because holy JESUS there are so many to choose from!). And my overwhelming desire to learn to knit. And, of course, how and where I am going to end up having this baby and whether or not I will ever get to see a doctor again. (This last one is still, obviously, making me a crazy person, but I am, with the help of the best man in the world, My Beloved, staying positive and angry. I find that anger helps me stay motivated to stick it to the man.) Over the weekend, MB and I went to a nearby outlet mall to spend his income tax return money on things that he has been putting off buying in the wake of all the crazy that has been going on at home like a new pair of glasses and new jeans (he has gained more weight throughout my pregnancy than I have. Anyone else’s significant other eating for him, you and the baby??). While we were there, I had a mini-meltdown about not knowing how we are going to swing this whole thing. And for the 67 millionth time, he reassured me that he will take care of me and the baby, no matter what. And that that’s what he is there for. And that he doesn’t feel obligated, but that he LOVES us. And that’s what you do when you love someone. You look out for them. And, of course, I am a spaz and everything will work out because “it always has”.
He’s right. And I need to learn to calm down and trust him. But I’m not really the trusting type. Even if I KNOW that he is serious and that I would do the same thing if the tables were turned, it is still hard to depend so much on someone else. You know, even if for nothing else than my sanity.
Pregnancy is hard.
But we are making it. And we will make it. And after we had this heart-to-heart over a breakfast for dinner meal at Denny’s (because nothing calms me the way that bacon does), we, totally on a whim and without discussing it at all, walked into a jewelry store and bought an engagement ring. We’ve known for a long time that we would be married some day, but we hadn’t really wanted to rush it. I want to elope somewhere beautiful and not be bothered with family and wedding planning and bridesmaids dresses, so naturally, the only thing really holding us back from “getting hitched” was the lack of funds. And then I got knocked up. And lost my job. So, seeing as we may never have money again, we figured he’d better at least put a ring on it.So, no, it wasn’t this romantic mome
nt where he got down on one knee and made a grand gesture. And it is nothing fancy, but simple and exactly what looks like it belongs on my finger. But I don’t need a grand gesture. Or a fancy-pants showy rock. I need a partner. And I have one. And he is the best thing that has ever happened to me. And every day is a grand gesture when you feel as loved and as cherished as I do.
So, there it is, he will make an honest woman out of me after all.
Okay, so many of you who stop by here from time to time may have seen my post from a little while back about my insecurity about “the bump”. I wanted to take a moment to tell all of you who commented and were so awesome and reassuring and wonderful that I really appreciate all your words.
It really has been a hard journey for me, as I think it is for a LOT more women than can admit it. I absolutely know that this is all a very beautiful thing and that what is happening to my body is natural and beautiful and purposeful and knowing all that stuff definitely prevents me from hurling myself off of a building, but it is still a struggle when I am just glancing at myself in the mirror or a store window. But all of you readers and commenters who could identify? ROCKED MY FACE OFF.
Thank you!!!
I have really been trying, since writing that post to really FOCUS on all of those positve and miraculous things that my body is working on doing right now and less on how I physically LOOK while my body is doing them. Because even though my body image is improving with every passing day, my body is racing to look MORE DIFFERENT* every day. (Seriously, I am pretty sure my hips are three inches wider than yesterday…) But I am getting there, and I now know, more than ever, that I am not the only neurotic, crazy pregnant lady to ever feel this way. So…seriously…sincerely…Thank you all. If I could, I would buy you each a beautiful bouquet of flowers, all of your individual favorite variety/color and have them sitting at your doorstep, waiting for you the next time you have a kind of neurotic/sad/frustrating/irritating/panic-inducing moment. Or maybe just because you really like flowers. And for those of you who are pregnant, I would also send ornate baskets of bacon. Because…I mean…come ON…who doesn’t like bacon?
Thank you, fellow bloggers…you are my sunshine.
Okay, after further research, I have decided that you pregoos would get BACON ROSES. (Why hasn’t anyone sent me BACON ROSES, you guys?! And why didn’t I know this was a thing?!)
Well, ladies and gents, it is official. I look like a giant, pregnant beast.
Over the weekend, MB and I decided that, on our way back from our lovely day of “playing tourist” in nearby St. Augustine, we would stop by the outlet mall on the way home. I had no idea how many baby stores there are in that place! I guess when you don’t have any reason to pay attention to baby stores, you don’t really notice that they even exist. And I definitely, before now, have never wanted anything to do with these places. Anyway, we bought about 300 little outfits for the wee one and one of them actually made me BURST INTO TEARS. Yes, I cried like a bitch at the mere SIGHT of an adorable little newborn outfit. And then I wanted to thrown myself into traffic. I did not. I, instead, put the item back on the rack and exited the store as fast as my gigantic body could do so.
Then we went into a maternity store.
I was super excited at the idea of possibly finding some semi-stylish clothing that might actually flatter my baby bump rather than making me look like…a house. I tried on 23 pairs of jeans, each one fitting stranger than the last, and ended up leaving with a bra the size of the entire Pacific Northwest, and a pair of those jeans that come up to your neck.
I was overly body-conscious many times in my life before becoming pregnant. And I am no stranger to being totally disgusted with my reflection, but generally, I can recognize that most of this insecurity is in my head. I do know, intellectually, that I am an attractive person. Big ass or not. (As it turns out, lots of people like a big ass!) I have naturally blonde hair and big, blue eyes. I have cute-ish freckles on my nose and cheeks and my eyelashes go for days. I am physically pretty. And on many levels, I know this. I KNOW IT, but I don’t always SEE it.
Being pregnant has made it harder to recognize the things about myself that I have always appreciated. Sure, my blonde hair is thicker and feels fantastic. And my cheeks do sort of glow with that tell-tale pregnant lady rosiness. And even though they make me FEEL a bit bovine, my boobs look pretty damn fantastic. But I can’t help but just feel huge. Huge and unattractive and anxious. I think that, having had body issues my whole life, adjusting to this weight gain and shape-changing has been more painful for me than anything else. My anxiety about being in public grows with my belly. I tend to feel that, without MB, who constantly tells me that I am the most beautiful thing in the world, I cannot brave the world outside. I don’t want strangers to stare at my midsection or try to touch me (because, unpreggos, it is NEVER appropriate to touch strangers’ bellies, I cannot stress this enough!) Up until now, I could convince myself to be confident all on my own. Now I sort of just want to shrink away until this baby is out. OUT!
Yesterday, I cried while I got dressed. And I may have just been having one of those over-emotional pregnant lady days, but it definitely felt like my chest was about to cave in. I am hoping that I start to make progress on accepting my body the way it is. Because I really do INTELLECTUALLY know that the worst is yet to come. The belly is going to continue to grow and the pants will continue to stretch and then, in what seems like years from now, I will finally get this thing out of my abdomen and hopefully start my journey back to my, slightly overweight but pretty damn adorable pre-pregnancy self.
All of this crazy is the main reason that, up until last week, I wouldn’t even take a picture of myself because I couldn’t bear for there to be photographic evidence that this is what I look like. In attempt to get over myself, here I am Internet. Baby bump and all. (exhale……)
Broken Condoms 