Pregnancy=Insanity

Turns out there is in fact a little something going on in there besides indigestion. Turns out this little something has a sweet little speedy heart-rate of 163 bpm. Our estimated due date was a little off though, (which I suspected because it was with Lucy) so our official due date from the doc is April 27th. It just does not matter that this is the way every single human being who has ever lived on this earth came into the world, when it is going on inside your body it is pretty surreal.

And surreal how something so teeny-tiny can wreak such havoc on your system. I guess in every sense of the word it is totally life-changing and monumental to mother a child , so why should I expect it ever to have little or no effect on me, even from the very beginning?

Lucy and I went on a walk last week. It was the first time out of the house in like a week, and I must say it was very invigorating. This time of year is my very favorite. The crispness in the air really does something to my lungs I can't quite describe. On our walk, we happened across an obviously VERY pregnant kitty cat. She waddled towards us and gave a friendly yet exhausted meow. I wanted nothing more than to sit down and massage that little pregnant frame. Massage her little paws and back. I wanted to tell her she had a right to have attitude, that she didn't have to be a friendly cat. I even gave her permission to scratch a few people, but adults only. No one could blame her.

It's an interesting thing, with husbands during pregnancy. Jason makes me toast every single morning while I'm still in bed writhing and moaning feeling like I'm on a bad ride at six flags that will not end. He has been wonderful (understatement). He has cleaned the kitchen several times and has been more than satisfied with making himself a sandwich for dinner. But, in my extreme heffer-ness, I still find room to resent him a little, simply because he has no uterus. (Not his fault. If he did have a uterus, things just never would have worked out between us.) Bottom line, he can never comprehend it. (Anyone who has never been through it can never comprehend it.) And I always think he's annoyed at me when he's not. I always think he thinks I'm just putting on a good show, like he's thinking, "It can't really be that bad, knock it off." And then I cry and I tell him that's what I think he's thinking and he tells me it's ridiculous and he's not thinking that at all. He comforts me and I feel better and then suddenly my eyes narrow, my head shoots towards him again and I say, "Yeah but you'll never really understand what this is like! So how can you really have the patience you say you have?! You know you despise me right now, I can feel it! And that makes me despise you because this is all your fault!" (And he should despise me, mostly because I'm despicable in every way). And then we burst into laughter and hi-five and say, "Phew, glad that was all pretend! You really had me going! Now let's go make some jello!" Poor, poor...poor Jason. Luckily, I evened out a lot by second trimester with Lucy and was actually less hormonal than I was when not pregnant. We are crossing our fingers that I'll be back to sanity by then. Crossing our fingers but not holding our breath.

I think my favorite part about this all, and it should be your favorite part too, is when I'm reminded that this little darling is headed our way in no time flat! What a little cutie-patootie she is. (Go ahead, enlarge it. You know you want to.)

I lied, that's my second favorite part. This is in reality my favorite part to be reminded of. Something this sublime was our end result last time. Isn't she lovely.