Friday, September 15, 2017

Welcome to the basket-case stage of pregnancy

Here I sit at 22 weeks. The countdown to viability has begun.

I'm basically showing, and fully resigned to elastic-waist maternity pants.

Slowly, one by one, rather than in an awkward group staff meeting setting, I am letting co-workers know that I am going to be out a while come January, knock on wood.

Yet every day is two steps forward, three steps back.

On the surface I've got my shit together.  I have kept relatively trim, thanks to weekly ballet classes and lots of walking.  And being careful with my diet.  I get my work done at the office then get Niblet to her activities, help her with her homework.  My hair is shiny and trimmed and freshly colored (yes colored, no judgment allowed - because I know too well that a semi-permanent hair dye never once killed one of my babies).  

Viking and the Nibble and I are talking about this baby as if she will be a member of our household... but then afterwards, I immediately feel a wave of anxiety and dread.  What if she doesn't make it?  What if she suffers a cord accident?  What if I develop Pre-E, and my skyrocketing blood pressure leads to a premature delivery?  What if what if what if.  How can any rational person plan on buying car seats or decorating a nursery when there are so many ways that women lose their babies late in pregnancy?

Then there's the ridiculous walking cliche I have become.  Baby animal videos make me cry.  Mean- spirited videos people take of their children and then post on facebook - thinking they are harmless ways to poke fun at their tantrum-ing kids (but in my view are really acute invasions of privacy and truly insensitive to the clear distress of their children) - those videos make me cry too.

Don't even get me started on the news and headlines.

When you look beyond the shiny veneer, I'm actually a teary-eyed mess, and my eyes are already a little red because sleep is tough these days.  Princess has taken to regularly crawling into bed and spooning me at around 4am, clearly sensing the jig is up.

Oh sweet kitty, while I recognize my role as uber-mom in our house, and revel in your affections, you gotta cut me a little break.




3 comments:

  1. 24 + 3 here and I can relate to all of this (other than the cat, as I have two doggies)! Thank you. Sending good vibes both our way over the next couple of weeks and beyond!

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  2. Fizzgig is my Snow White impersonator...birds helping her put away stuff and cats helping make her bed. I hope your sweet snuggle buddy can let you get some needed rest. I 100% understand your fear of baby stuff. Perhaps take the Jewish approach? I read a website (as my mayonnaise skin clearly is not Hebrew)...and alot of the traditions are kinda superstition based. No baby showers before birth, no furniture purchases in advance, etc. And this way maybe Nibble could even run and buy the come home outfit after she is born. Plan on it and make the purchase a special thing? Woogie Man could care less about things conception, but Fizzgig would be 3...she might think it was fun to go shopping for baby. I have not made it to my rainbow so I cannot walk in your shoes. Trigger shot slated for Sunday which means edd will be my tfmr birthdate. I MCed a kiddo who would have shared the due date. Trying to be positive and make happy out of sad... Oh and we are traveling this weekend. I get to defile my sister's bathroom as my sperm donor hubbie is traveling too. We best not ever tell her :)

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