when you're about five months pregnant.
Like I've said before, I've had a relatively easy pregnancy and I'm fully aware of and grateful for it. But pregnancy is still physically, emotionally and psychologically challenging no matter what. And now, if you'll permit me, I'd like to indulge in a brief 'self-pity' party.
A couple of weekends ago, I went to my friend Lauren's baby shower where they served many tasty hors d'ouevres and some petit fours that were so good I would like to devise a way to mainline them. We had a lovely afternoon, played some games ( I won one, go me!) and then was the opening of the gifts. She got so many thoughtful gifts and one of them was a little bath tub filled with odds and ends she would need, like nail clippers with a leeeeeeetle magnifying glass and The Snot Sucker (I dread The Snot Sucker which is why it has earned the CAPS) and finally, this mysterious object
Now, I'm not going to lie, it was packaged and labeled correctly, but it was so foreign to me and came in a BATH TUB so I instantly thought it was some terrifying Baby Cleaning device and I blurted out 'What d you do to a baby with THIS?' And all of the ladies laaaughed and laaaaughed as I sheepishly read 'Bottle Brush and Sponge' on the package.
Now this kind of shit worries me. I consider myself a relatively intelligent person but my first, albeit brief, thought when I saw this was 'that doesn't look like a nice thing to clean a baby with'. Ugh. Granted, one moment later it was clear what it was and I probably would have reached the same conclusion withOUT reading the packaging, but still. oh. my. god. I told someone recently that being pregnant is like playing poker, loooong stretches of boredom spiked with moments of terror and anxiety and then hopefully the glorious rush of winning your hand. Well those spikes of anxiety are not helped by evidence of my complete baby ignorance...
And I'll keep this one brief because it's petty and I know it but...
I really liked my body. I was having a pretty good time with it. Now my belly button is missing and my ass, which was never meager, is getting absurd. That is all.
Physically, I'm doin very very well, but this heartburn, OH THIS HEARTBURN, I can be rockin it aaaalll day long heartburn-free and then I snuggle into my bed at the end of the day, lay my head gently on my pillow, breathe a sigh of relief to get off my feet and finally horizontal and then BOOM, I seriously feel like an ice cold FIRE (yes it's possible) is creeping up my esophagus. This heartburn is so bad it literally makes me cough and choke. Tums helps and being vertical helps so I know I'm being a baby about this, but I've never had heartburn, so it sucks. suuuuuuucks.
And finally, a few weeks ago it occurred to me ( and I'm not sure why it took nearly five months to do it) that this baby has to come OUT... of me! It will be IN and then it will need to come OUT. And I have to do that. I have to get this baby out, under my own steam. No one can do it for me. I have to PUSH a CHILD out of my body. :insert f bomb:
Other than that, I'm so excited to meet this little girl. She got her first presents yesterday. Such adorable (did I just say adorable? arrrgh) stuff. A little girl is going to be fun to dress, after she's done pooping and puking all over everything...