3:55 p.m. - 2006-09-25
Beware of Pregnant Woman
I feel like I should be wearing a warning sign around my neck these days, ensuring that anyone who crosses my path knows just how pregnant and just how ornery I am.
I wish this weren't the case. I'm normally pretty sweet, I think. But as of late last week, I'm officially done: done being nice to people when I'm not in the mood, done biting my tongue, and VERY done being pregnant. Officially, there are 24 days left, but oh mamacita, I'm DONE.
This is mostly due to the fact that I'm so uncomfortable. Not just at night, not just when I have to pee, but ALL THE TIME. I really hesitate to use the word "miserable" to describe how I feel, because then how will I describe the way I feel two weeks from now?
Pumpkin's... I don't know, doing something. At last week's OB visit, the doctor said I hadn't dropped yet. But since then, I can't imagine that's no longer the case. This fetus is hanging down so low inside of me that I feel short, but intense, bursts of pain on my bladder, and what I can only presume to be my cervix, when she moves. They're so bad that I wince and sometimes even yelp, causing whoever's around me to freeze and immediately wonder if they could run away from my vicinity as fast as possible without looking like a social ingrate, because they're just convinced that a baby will fall out of me within minutes and they're going to have to be the one to deliver it. I don't know if this is normal or not, but it's making me very crazy.
Aside from the physical discomfort, the hormones are raging and I have little to no patience for anyone lacking common sense, or the ability to comply with my wishes. To that end, I'm cooking up ways to get back at our new office temp, who, despite my asking her politely not to, insists on running the space heater I mistakenly loaned her last week. It's 70 degrees outside, she's wearing a wool turtleneck, and she's still cold. I thought the combination of my asking nicely, being extremely pregnant, and oh yeah, BEING HER BOSS would convince her to shut the damn thing off, but she sneaks it on when she thinks I'm not looking. I can hear it cycle on and off, I'm not a moron. My plan is to take it home tonight, and if she asks what happened tomorrow, say, "Looks like someone took it." Which won't be a lie.
Lastly, I'm ornery because I'm anxious. Anxious for all the obvious reasons, but also due to one very large, looming feeling that Pumpkin is actually a boy. Why, oh WHY have several people felt compelled to tell me lately that they personally know someone who was expecting a girl, but was so surprised when she delivered a boy? Why would anyone tell me this? Pumpkin's room practically glows pink, and I don't have most of the receipts and tags and stuff for the rug, curtains, lamp shade, etc. Are these people looking to make me cry? Because it wouldn't be hard.
