Archive for April, 2010

A little bit of crazy

I thought I should give you all a little peak into the neurotic world that I live in right now…

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The other day, Mike wanted me to come up with a list of stuff to do before Ella comes. What did I do instead? Rack my brain for “the song” that I will sing to little Ella when I’m rocking her to sleep. See, I’ve decided that it’s of utmost importance to pick a song now and sing it to her while she’s in the womb. Is this as practical as a to-do list? No. But it was fun (oh, and also unproductive. I still haven’t landed on “the song”).

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I’ve also become totally and completely emotionally unstable. The hormones were supposed to be bad in the first trimester. This second trimester is supposed to be energetic, joyful, blissful – pretty much the happiest time of pregnancy. Well, no one told my insides that, and it has resulted in more than a few hysterical crying sessions that now just seem hysterically funny, given the circumstances. Like, when Mike made a joke about me cleaning his egg pan from that morning (it was my turn to do dishes), and I started bawling and rubbing my eyes like a FOUR YEAR OLD and throwing my head into his shoulder until it was full of snot. If I had a transcript of that conversation, it might look like this:

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“I was going to clean it (*gulp*), but I didn’t have time because I was cooking, but (*hiccup*) I was going to do it after dinner, and I was going to say something about that (*sniff*) but I thought you would think I was being weird, so I didn’t say anything and now (*sob*) I wish I had, because it’s gonna sound like I’m just saying it because you said something and (*hiccup*) I’m sooooo tired.(*lots of crying*)”

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Oh, wait – ha! Did you think that was the end? No, no, friend. I just couldn’t talk while I was crying. Let’s get back to the crazy…

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“And I’m just so overwhelmed at work (*sob*), and there’s so much to do at (*hiccup*) home, and my back hurts and my sciatic nerve hurts and all I want is (*sniff*) ice creeeeaaaam, and we still haven’t figured out birthing classes! (*more uncontrollable crying and eye rubbing*)”

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Then,

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“I think I’m going to go take a shower.”

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End scene.

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And no, I am not exaggerating my words at all – ask Mike. A dirty egg pan turned into a heap of problems heavy enough to cause worldwide disaster (or so it seemed).

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In other news, we HAVE found birthing classes after much hard work and diligent searching. And – what’s that? Another opportunity for crazy? Ah yes, let’s review.

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I am currently under the care of an OB/GYN. You know, like most women in America. So when we met with the birthing class instructor and she asked who my caregiver is, and where I was planning on delivering, and I told her [Doctor’s Name] and [Hospital Name] (hellooooo, this is the internet, people. I’m not publishing that stuff on a public blog!)…. well, she did not approve. That didn’t surprise me, given that she’s kind of one of those crunchy-granola-birth-at-home-sew-your-own-tablecloths-and-hang-tapestries-from-foreign-cultures-on-your-walls kinds of ladies. Not that there’s anything wrong with that! But (a) it’s not really “me” and (b) well, it was predictable. She’s into natural stuff: natural food, natural home, natural labor – etc. And hey! I’m all about the natural stuff. In a hospital. A nice, clean, sterile, technologically advanced, medicine-filled hospital. She gave us some reading assignments, and – incidentally – the first book that I started reading was the same one that was recommended to me by our dear friend, Phyllis (hi Phyllis!). So, I knew I could trust the book and not chalk it up to a “hippy’s manifesto” or something.

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Not important fact: I got a killer cold this week and stayed home Tuesday and Wednesday.

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So, one of those afternoons I was able to rest in bed and read this book. When Mike got home, this was what happened:

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Mike: Hey darling, how are you feeling?

Me: A little better. Less snot. More breathing.

<pause>

(*cough*sniff*)

Me: So… I want to have Ella at a birthing center.

Mike stopped in his tracks, looked at me, and (what a husband!) said “Ok – let’s call and see if they’ll take us.”

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He was, undoubtedly, taken aback by my sudden (and as yet unexplained) change of heart, but he was calm, supportive, and flexible. He’s so cool.

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I did, finally, explain myself to him (and he has since begun reading the book, too), but the birthing center is all filled up for July (and, yes, August), so it’s a moot point anyway. (I was so tempted to write “moo” point or “mute” point there just to drive some people crazy. But my prideful fear that some people might see it and – gasp! – think I didn’t know any better kept me from actually doing it. I am a nerd.)

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Conclusion: Pregnancy makes you crazy. (But at least it’s given me thicker hair.)

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And now for the encore:

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February belly:

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March belly:

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April belly:

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