As I sit here eating lunch and going over all the thoughts in my head I have decided that this post could seem extremely whiny, negative and just downright annoying. So if you'd rather not listen to a 9 month pregnant lady moan and complain about the status of her life, I suggest you move on, because that is what I fully intend on doing.
I have officially reached the end of my rope. On Saturday I threw in the towel for work. I called in sick after being nauseous all day and just having no more energy to give. It was probably best because I was told by a co-worker on Monday that it was crazy busy and I would have probably just been a hot mess. She didn't use the term "hot mess" but I decided that's what it would have been.
Right now my biggest pet-peeve is being asked 12 million times a day "how are you feeling?" I would really love to respond with "How do you think I am feeling" and I would love to just tear apart their guess as to how I am feeling. Is it unreasonable to want to be treated as though I am not carrying around 40 extra pounds (or 50...or 60), have completely swollen feet and ankles making them appear anything but human and walk like I am going to fall over at any given second (which yesterday this did actually happen in Menards. I squatted down to ask Jack a question and he answered excitedly and hugged me which sent me tumbling to the ground, flat on my back. Luckily I was only a few inches from the ground to begin with. The farmer looked over and chuckled with a sad look on his face) Is it unreasonable to not want to be asked "when are you due?" or "how do you feel?" or "are you getting excited?" or "are you nervous about labor and delivery?" Can I just carry around a sign that says "Saturday, crabby/irritable/tired/sore, DUH, and NO I just want this baby out I don't care how it happens, just make it happen."
I have had a fantastic pregnancy, a healthy baby with no complications, 9 months relatively pain free, I've been able to work all the way up until now, I have gained less weight than with my first pregnancy, I love my doctor and the nurses at Elmbrook are awesome. Everything is ready for this baby, she has a fabulous wardrobe awaiting her arrival, she has a chic nursery to dwell in - it's really been a wonderful 40 weeks.
But now I quit.
I am sore, I never sleep, I pee 18 thousand times a day, at least. I would love to enjoy a piece of pizza or a taco without choking on acid vomit when I go to sleep, I want to drink as much Coke and coffee as I want without having to keep tabs on how much caffeine I've had for the day. I don't want to have to think about when was the last time I took my Pepcid and if it's been 12 hours so I can take another. Which brings me back to that questions "are you getting excited?" YES I am so excited. To have my baby girl, to snuggle her and kiss her and hold her and swaddle her, even to change diapers and be spit up on and to get up umpteen million times a night. At this point that all sounds just fine to me! But I am also excited to never be pregnant again, to lose weight, to go on a run, to do a massive overhaul on my diet and get healthy, I can't wait to wear skinny jeans and cute shoes and short shorts. I can't wait to enjoy a drink with friends on the weekend and plan our next trip to Vegas. I am also excited for the Farmer to enjoy all those things with me, I know he can't wait!
Speaking of the Farmer. I do actually feel bad for him. This is his busy season so now he's overworked, underfed, doesn't get any sleep thanks to me and my non-stop tossing, turning, [apparent] snoring, and bathroom breaking throughout the night and then he gets to deal with my hormonal wrath for anything and everything. Yesterday it was the chickens that set me off, the day before that it was nothing at all. He just came to the kitchen to find me sobbing at the table. I was mostly just feeling sorry for myself. I'm a wreck. So naturally he's burnt out too, he's probably more ready for this baby to come than I am. Just kidding, that's not possible.
I am grateful for the abundance of friends and family I have praying for me. I know they either totally get it and can personally identify with this miserable state of being, or they just have tremendous pity for me. Either way I covet their prayers and am so thankful to have the support system that I do. Honestly, in all my whining and complaining it is humbling to know that so many people truly care about me.
I think I've done a good enough job of complaining for today. My lunch is finished, which I am sure will be promptly regurgitated - sorry TMI - as I am about to take a nap (hopefully) and acid reflux has been my biggest enemy this pregnancy. Pray with me for a miracle! I suppose I really can't be super impatient until Saturday, which is officially D-Day. But color me impatient anyways - I am already there. Going to the doctor on Thursday and hoping for spontaneous combustion of my water bag while she's checking me. Seriously.
But my wonderful Parkside 23 co-workers are having a little luncheon thingy for me on Thursday afternoon, so if nothing else, I do have that to look forward to. Thanks for suffering me. Until next time (I hope I have a baby to blog about!)
The Farmer's [Super Pregnant] Wife
