Currently: laying in my bed like anyone you’ve seen on My 600 LB Life. I mentioned that to my friend Chelsea the other day, and it seems accurate every time I plop down.
Not currently: in California with the rest of my in-laws, celebrating my father in law’s birthday.
I’ve been teetering back and forth between wondering if I could handle his months-in-the-making celebration without breaking my sore body. I still have OVER two months until this baby girl is expected, so I’m confused about state of emergency my body has already seemed to issue. To women, I describe it as that 36-40 week discomfort of painful pressure, difficulty walking at the end of the day, and major back aches. To men, I’d describe it as, “Please punch my back to loosen it up.”
Last night, Brian was graced with the ultimate episode of pregnant indecisiveness.
“What should I pack? Wait, no, wait. I can’t go. I cannot go. Why do I think I can handle traveling and getting through an airport, much less sightseeing and vacationing? I will snap in half or my pelvis will fall out.”
Brian mentioned something about the Santa Cruz boardwalk and pulling me in a trailer.
“What? Well, okay. Haha. No, that’s dumb! This doesn’t even make sense! This will hurt! I can’t do this!” There were tears. There were backrubs. There were more tears about clothes and I can and I can’t and I can and I can’t and I won’t cancel my flight and have to go “because it’s the last time before the baaaaabyyyyyy and I never even see you anymore and why did you book such an early flight and I’m going to have to ask the Uber driver to stop and pee and I WILL DIE and I can’t! But I will. It’s okay. I will. I’m coming.”
I think that was when Brian could sense something irrational and weird about to happen and relocated quietly to a different bathroom to get ready for bed.
…where I followed him to tell him I was going and it was going to be so fun and I loved him.
Sometime around 1AM when I had to take Tylenol, I climbed out of my bed’s pregnant pillow-nest and cried walking downstairs. These weird back-Braxton Hicks made me feel like a dried up rollie pollie I’d seen my boys playing with recently…the kind that are halfway closed, you know? I felt like a dried up, half closed rollie pollie with little legs poking out, trying to walk down the stairs.
I got back in bed to inform Brian there’s just no way. I had to bail on my in-laws trip, which is sad and also scary. In-laws don’t have to love you unconditionally. There’s always the weird one no one actually likes. OMIGOSH AM I THAT ONE? Do I have past offenses? Will I have inter-family friends?
Brian just held my hand, because he’s the best, and knows how to sidestep some real landmines. Maybe also because it was some crazy hour and he was actually asleep.
The next morning, he left, and my request to cancel my flight was clear the night before…and I still teared up thinking that I didn’t go. I called him sobbing that he didn’t make me go with him.
I’ve never been this emotional in my life, and had to look it up, because that’s what Google is about. Self diagnosing. Search: Why am I so emotional while pregnant? It should say, “Are you serious, you idiot?” but instead, I found this article, the title of which is verbatim what I’d been wondering.
I found consolation in the title alone. That was enough.
Brian is skydiving with his family, and I think after this whole thing he really will be ready to jump out of a plane.