Monday, July 25, 2011

Having a Moment

You know what I am most looking foward to when I go on maternity leave?

Not doing my FUCKING JOB for six weeks.


That is all.

Back to work.

Sunday, July 17, 2011


Just for the record, this current posting lapse actually wasn’t my fault. My POS computer ka-plut again four weeks ago (for the second time). Sadly, this also coincided with my husband’s 3-week business trip, so I have been sans computer for the last four weeks.

Nonetheless, I have managed to keep track of some thoughts, just haven’t been able to actually get around to posting.

Here goes:

1. Its always interesting to share the good new with someone, and then have them respond with a story about their wife’s stillbirth at 6 months. Not that I'm judging (because holy crap that would be devastating), it's just somewhat sobering when you are expecting a "congrats!"

2. Still sick, but been running though. By the end of week 13, I was like, “Eff you, Sick. You’re my bitch now.” So of course it only made sense to sign up for a 10k two days post-proclamation. And for those of you thinking, “Well 6 miles isn’t that far” – tell that to my non-running-for-three-months legs, my newly rounded-out hips, and a flappy (yes, flappy) ass. They would beg to differ.

(Me and my sweet face niece Ford, whose mommy pushed her in a stroller for the race. I'm fueled by prenatal vitamins, Ford is fueling on my phone protector. The protector probably tastes better.)

3. Turns out Fatigue was a fashionably late to the party. Showed up at week 14, and was like, “Where’s the keg, yo?” I was like, “It’s under the pillow and comforter, yo.”

4. Then it was Insomnia’s turn. Showed up at Week 16. At 330 am. Every night. It’s been awesome. But the sunny side is that I get a lot of work done at 4am (which is good given the Sick likes to stop in around dinner time and stay for the night, preventing ANY sort of anything getting done, except some serious couch surfing), and learned that some really interesting (read: smelly weirdos) go to the gym at this insanely stupid hour.

So as it stands, I am officially 18 weeks pregnant. The morning-noon-night sickness decided to hang around looking for a free meal, so I finally went back on prescription nausea meds this past week. I avoided this as long as possible – trying out every single other recommendation given to me (except acupuncture) with little overall success.

I am up more pounds than probably normal at this point, but the good news is that is seems mostly be in my obscenely large knockers (well, good news for the husband), and I have forced myself back to the gym at least four times weekly. No matter how sick I feel before hand, going for a treadmill incline walk or 5k run seems to make it slightly better.

I will be honest – the shallow part of me gets really self-conscious at the gym in my now-tight shorts and my minute-slower-per-mile pace that I hide under a towel, and I find myself resisting the urge to stand in the middle of the gym and scream, “This isn’t what I really look like! I swear I am fit! I’m just pregnant! I swear! I was an Ironman, for crying out loud!! Stop judging my cellulite!” But then reality kicks in and I try to remind myself that no matter how much my body is revolting against me (see also: leakage and a double chin), it’s all for a good cause.

As in – a baby.

(Trust me, it's under there - about four people have asked me to post "belly pics" to Facebook, but I'm sorry, I can't get past standing half-nekkid in a bra and taking awkward pictures of my large self. I have a "friend" on FB who does this every month, and it kinda weirds me out - no offense to anyone reading that has done this during their own pregnancy. Just a personal preference. If you're a lady with kids, you know what it looks like. If you're a man with kids, you've seen your wife's. Mine looks probably about the same.)

Oh, and one last thing – seeing as I have been super sick for so long and my husband is mostly gone all the time, I’ve taken to texting him photos of what our baby might look like:

You are what you eat, right?

Oh my poor poor husband - getting a text of a piece of toast is a far cry from the texts he got during the early dating days when he was on the road for weeks at a time and had a tan, lean, fit girlfriend (that would be me).

Then again, there’s high likelihood I will be birthing a wedge of cheddar cheese with a watermelon head. Or if my kid's a 12-pounder like my husband was at birth, maybe it will just FEEL like a watermelon.

And with enough TMI to make a horse vomit, I'm out.