Last post I mentioned that I was going to share more about the intimacies of being pregnant.
I was going to put a lot of physical things on there, like vericose veins, and stretch marks, and heart burn, and constipation, and peeing every five minutes, and boobs filling with colostrum 3 months before it's necessary, and weird rashes; but then I thought - who cares.
That's my general attitude right now. Not 'who cares' in a sad way, but 'who cares' in a 'I don't care' sort of a way. Like, not as strong as 'Go f yourself' I don't care, but more like, 'I just don't care or have the energy to care, not that I'm mad about it I just don't have the energy to feel good or bad about it, I just sort of feel blah about it all' I don't care.
So, that sounds dramatic. And really, it's not all the time. I have ups and downs like a normal human, but it's just a little intensified because of the pregnancy hormones.
But everywhere I look and everything I hear is how wonderful, and joyful, and non-stressful everyone's pregnancies are and that made me even more upset because I felt like there was something wrong with me for not being thrilled every five seconds. And then I realized, after watching a lot of Ellen, and that still not cheering me up, that no - it's not always easy. And I don't have to be happy all the time, because shit is hard sometimes.
Is it amazing being pregnant, and am I totally grateful and thrilled about it?
Yes.
Absolutely.
No question.
But is it also really freaking hard sometimes? Hell, yes. And I wish I had known, I wish someone had said, "Hey sometimes you get depressed when you're pregnant, and have a toddler, and are trying to work full time, and it's the never ending winter of Montana, the winter they talk about coming on Game of Thrones, the winter that lasts seven years, and has weird zombie white walkers, and makes you want to stay in your sweats until the END OF TIME. And you know what? It's ok. Let yourself be sad. Let yourself feel whatever you're feeling. Tell someone about it, and I'll bet they'll listen." Because that might have helped me a little. It might have been nice to hear someone else went through it too.
And I did tell someone about it. And then I also told my OB and she was so helpful, and so amazing, and she let me cry my stupid hormonal pregnant cry in her office even though she had other patients, and even though I didn't want to hear it, she told me about my options if I end up getting post-partum.
And I'm not there, I don't need it, it's not that bad. But it's nice to know I have help if I need it.
So, I'm just putting it out there in case someone reading this knows someone who's pregnant, or is pregnant, or might get pregnant one day, or might get someone pregnant one day - don't feel bad if you don't feel spectacular all the time. You're not alone.
And now I sound like a bad AA meeting from an episode of Magnum P.I. where Magnum is trying to save a rich lady from a stalker who happens to be in AA so he has to go in and pose as an alcoholic, all sexy-like with his mustache, and his face, just being all sexy, and he has to share a made-up story about how he almost ruined his life with the booze and he's so believable because, duh, he's Magnum P.I., his name is
MAGNUM people, it doesn't get any more believable than that, and his mustache is all mustache-y and never has food in it, and I bet it doesn't even tickle when he kisses you, it probably makes the whole experience better if we're being honest here, and after he's done sharing his fake AA story the leader of the group says, "You're not alone Magnus," and then Magnum punches him in the face for getting his name wrong - Magnum does not use an alias - but it's such a gentle and discreet punch with his elbow that it doesn't make you angry with Magnum, it makes you want to go over and kiss is sore elbow, look into his dreamy . . .blue? . . . green? . . . brown eyes? who cares when he's got that heavenly 'stache poised and ready to rock your world, upstairs and down, and then suddenly you're making out next to the stale donuts and coffee and the other people are like, "Should we leave?" but they don't, I mean, would you leave if you saw Magnum kissing someone, no, you'd grab a chair and some popcorn, because homeboy has arms like some sort of Greek statue, and they're currently being used to hold himself and his lady friend up on a folding card table without any effort, as if they're just floating in a world of bad snacks and tile floor and lust.
Oh, my gosh. I suddenly feel a whole lot better.
Yes, I'll take this call while I'm in the ocean. Wearing my watch. This isn't even a cordless phone, it just works because I will it to.
Anyway, sorry to be so heavy, I just wanted to get it out there and be done with it. Much like an exorcism of sorts. I actually do feel better just writing it down.
You know what else always, always, always makes me smile and laugh and have a good day?
Naked baby butts!
And cute riders in the car telling me all about the balloon she's holding. The balloon she'll soon her father with even though he's driving the car and should probably not be hit whilst driving. Who cares when she's so adorable!?
