Wow. Our blog domain has a feature that allows us to see how many people are reading our blogs everyday, and we are blown away by how many hits our blog has received since January 2nd... (like, over 10,000.) I'm fairly certain that I don't even know 10,000 people, and so most of you are strangers to me. I don't know your background, I don't know your stories, and I certainly don't know your names. Maybe you stumbled upon the blog while you were blog hopping, maybe a search for PCOS brought you here, or maybe you're a friend of a friend and enjoy creeping on other people the same way I do. Whomever you are, whatever the reason, we're glad you're here. Stay awhile. Walk this journey with us.
The funny thing about pregnancy is that it is genuinely hard to be encouraging to anybody. Truly. When somebody asks me how I'm feeling, it takes every morsel of my being not to spout off "Uhm, Terrible, thanks for asking." Or sometimes I feel like saying "I'm feeling a lot of things, but positive adjectives won't describe any of them." So I try to find a new creative way to say that I feel like sleeping through the next six months. Usually it's something like "I hear it gets better soon!" Or, "I have good days and bad days." Or even the days that I speak from the bottom of my heart and say "I'm not going to lie to you, I feel awful today..." I'm met with looks of horror and shock. Like, "How dare Kaylea say that? Doesn't she know that her pregnancy is a miracle? Doesn't she recognize the blessing growing inside of her?" Let me just clear a few things up for you, buddy. I am absolutely, positively, irrationally, insanely mad about my baby. I love that someday soon, I'll look at my sweet baby and say "I made him/her." And even thinking about it sends my stomach into a crazy hurricane of butterflies. That doesn't change the fact that right now, this instant, every major muscle and ligament in my lower back/ abdomen are stretching in ways that I'm pretty sure they've never stretched before. When I stand up to walk across the room, it spins. When I try to stand on one foot to stretch the other leg, I lose my balance completely. When I wake up in the morning, it's almost never by choice. When I burp, it isn't just a burp. It's a cesspool of lava and turmoil.When I walk by a mirror, I don't see glowing skin and a baby bump. I see hips where I didn't use to see hips, and I see a bulge in my stomach that used to go away when I sucked it in. It's not a pretty picture, I don't like seeing it. I don't like taking pictures of it. I don't like to see the ring of my belly button when my shirts stretch so violently across it. It's a rough time in my life, and so perhaps your best question should be "Are you excited to meet your baby in 6 months?" Because my answer is way more likely to be one of enthusiasm. So sorry to disappoint and shock you, but pregnant women whine for a reason, and I have a long line of words for Eve when I get to the pearly gates. If you say your pregnancy was dreamy and perfect, you have forgotten or blocked out the memories, I promise. They say that when you see the baby, you forget it all. I really hope it's true. Until then, I wait for July. I cry out for July. I dream of July. You won't see me feel bad about it.
Another Annoyance that I can't seem to avoid are waiting rooms. I think it's fairly safe to say that I'm not incredibly social to strangers. I won't be the one to walk across the room and say "Oh hey, I don't think we've met!" I won't be the one to volunteer for group prayer time. I won't be the one to carry on a conversation just to be polite. I am the person to kill you with my eyes. I am the one that will mentally stab you with a fork. This baby has only intensified those feelings. Today, Cody and I were sitting in the waiting room. Our appointment was at 3, and while I was prepared for a wait, others in the room did not share my sentiment. The doctors waiting area is basically a loud, window surrounded, tile on the floor, echo-y, even whispers sound like screams room. Cody and I were practically speaking in sign language because we felt like our conversations were amplified to extreme measures. Others did not share our reserved attitudes. There was one woman, sitting RIGHT SMACK in the middle of the room, talking on the phone to her mom about why it isn't right that she pays for her sister's cell phone bill and not hers. Then her son called and wanted to play outside... which was apparently his worst decision because of his allergies. Then she got on the phone with insurance, and I kid you not, shared every intimate detail of her life and procedures with everyone in the room. THEN she puts the woman on speaker phone. Somewhere in that conversation, another family member called to speak to her on her husband's phone, so homegirl sits with a phone on each ear, talking to both people at once. THEN she knocks on the receptionist's window with her elbow and says "Hey, my appointment was at 2:30 and it's 3:15. What gives?" I could seriously continue this story for the next seven blogs, because it was like sharing a waiting room with everything you've ever dreaded in life. I couldn't help but stare. And sigh. And laugh judgementally. And stab her with my mind fork when she spoke so disrespectfully to everyone she came in contact with. So we finally got rid of her when another lady's baby woke up. It was one of those situations where everybody smiled at the baby, because he was pretty adorable... so mom took this as an opportunity to really amplify the cute factor. Baby talk, peek-a-boo, giggles galore. It was tolerable for like the first 4 minutes. The real treat was when she took the baby to the bathroom for a diaper change. The waiting room was eerily quiet and all of the sudden, in a high, squeaky, giggly voice, we hear her saying "Come here! What are you doing?! Come see me! Peek-a-boo!" And I lost it, y'all. I couldn't STOP laughing at the awkwardness of the situation. If I didn't KNOW there was a baby in that bathroom with her, I would have been scarred for life, but because of the baby, the situation was hysterical.
I've mentioned how thrilled I am for food to appeal to me again. Just to prove that I was only being mildly dramatic, I stepped on the scale today (which I normally dread.) From October 25 to January 15, I've dropped 17 pounds. 17 POUNDS. The saddest part of all was that I thought to myself "From where?" Because I have a whole list of places that have expanded. You would THINK that if I was truly 17 pounds lighter, I wouldn't need maternity jeans... so to test said theory, I tried to put my skinny jeans back on today. It's a good thing that we didn't have a fire going tonight, because I probably would have burned them. I couldn't even get them past my hips. It was like a cruel joke... like somebody had replaced my skinny jeans with a size 3, and laughed hysterically behind a hidden curtain when I tried to put them on. I threw them across the room as dramatically as I could before I looked down at my bump. And I smiled a little, because the bump has never really bothered me. Then I looked in a mirror, and I saw my hips... and I died a little inside, because I know that they'll probably never go back. So I tried to embrace them by singing my best Destiny's Child jam, "Bootylicious," and Cody died of laughter. And said "What the crap are you singing? Is that even a real song?" Psh, like I could ever be that creative. #whitegirlprobs
We had a great doctor's appointment today, but I'll post that with the 13 week blog. I obviously had a few things to get off of my chest today. Laugh with me or at me, I can't make this stuff up.
See ya Thursday!
Word to the Wise: Never do a google image search for "Bootylicious." APPARENTLY, the song inspired a magazine. Don't be me. Just type "Destiny's Child."
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