Hey there. It’s been a while.
I’ve been writing this post for about a month now. If I don’t hit publish sometime soon, I suspect I’ll go crazy. So it might be a little disjointed.
So, I’m pregnant with my third! 20 weeks along. Or 21. They keep changing dates on me. The other day I asked Zain what was in my belly and he said “A PENIS!”. It turns out he was CORRECT. I’m going to be the mother of THREE sons. Crazy talk. Seven Brides for Seven Brothers keeps looping in my head, at the rate we’re going THAT IS GOING TO BE MY LIFE. I’ll be the sole female in a houseful of
redheaded males, teaching them about goin’ courtin’ and getting them to clean up rull nice for supper and the like.
You know how it goes. Life.
I’ve only recently started to feel like a normal person again. Pregnancy hormones hit me like a fucking freight train this time around. No Joke. Taking pictures of myself/writing about the way I felt made me want to vomit. Just getting up in the morning (not to mention getting dressed) made me want to vomit. And of course, morning sickness made me want to vomit.
In a desperate move to make myself feel better, I went and got a haircut and ended up with the stylist drastically thinning out my hair within an inch of it’s life, and although I keep repeating “It’s only hair, hair grows back” to myself, every time I look in the mirror I die a little inside. I have a reoccurring fantasy of strangling that broad, it’s one of the few things that comforts me. Lately I’ve been thinking of chopping it all off. More on that later.
When I first found out that I was pregnant, I was surprised. I wasn’t really keeping track of my cycle. One day when I was home with the kids I just had a feeling something was off. Andy had been emailing me all day, as he always did, and I just didn’t want to email him back. I felt…weird. Detached. Gloomy. Andy’s earlier emails went a little like this: “Hey, hope your day is going well…check out this link, okay? It’s pretty funny, etc.” and then after not hearing from me for several hours: “Are you okay? Email me or call me and let me know.” Sounds a bit dramatic, but like I said, we talk so often that we usually get a little anxious if the other person drops off the map for two seconds. I ended up calling him and telling him, “Sorry I haven’t been responding to your emails. I feel… weird.”
“What do you mean? Do you think you’re getting sick?”
“No, I mean. I feel kind of sad. Not really sad, but just…I don’t know. Moody.”
“Oh!” Andy said happily, the bastard. “You know what that could be, don’t you?”
Andy laughed. “You’re probably pregnant.”
I pushed that idea aside. “Nah, I doubt it.”
“Have you gotten your period yet?”
“No. But it’s not supposed to come for a while.”
“It was supposed to start a week ago.”
“How would YOU know?”
I waited until he got home that night to take a pregnancy test. The plus sign popped up immediately. When I brought it out for him to view, he couldn’t stop smiling, and neither could I.
For the next week or so, I had no nausea. I got smug. And then I got SCHOOLED.
Anyway, whoa. I’m halfway there.
Livin’ on a prayer.