05.08.06
Yes, I do feel ready to pop, thanks for asking
This weekend was a whirlwind of rainy days and dog swims and discovering new parks and finally getting the deal on our house closed and Steve having a friend stay over for two nights and feeling like the carpet was being pulled out from under my feet for no particular reason at all. I did not expect this, did not know it was coming until afterwards. This rollercoaster of emotions I have been on. I am up and down and liable to burst into tears at any given moment. I spent most of Friday and Saturday fighting off waves of sadness and tears, of trying not to let things people said in passing upset me. Simple things like swear words and rude jokes that usually roll off my back seemed to scratch down my spine instead.
My older brother and his girlfriend of two-ish years broke up last week. He has been slowly realizing that she was not the person for him, and although he loves her and cares about her, did not want to string her along with notions of forever. I cried when my mom told me, for him and for her and for the whole situation, because moving on can be so damn hard. I was upset because I know he is hurting, and even when you know what you are doing is right, it does not make the pain any less real. Steve asked me if I thought that he was pushing her away because he was scared of moving to the next level, and I reacted defensively and said that even someone who seems perfect is not perfect if they are not the person for you.
I went to the dentist this morning, and was amazed at how uncomfortable it was for me to lay back on the chair. I broke out in a sweat and got dizzy, and told the girl cleaning my teeth that I could not lie back that way. She huffed and told me it was hard to clean my teeth if I was not lying flat, and I bit my tongue and told myself she must never have been eight and a half months pregnant. They cleaned my teeth but postponed my checkup until six months down the road when they can take x-rays of my jaw. I decided that it was not worth getting into the argument about the benefit versus danger of x-rays and all of that radiation today and would deal with that sometime down the road.
Last night as we settled into bed the gymnastics routine started. It was much longer and busy than normal. Steve curled his body behind mine with his arm and hand draped across my stomach on top of the blankets, and after a few comments about the activity level, he reached under my shirt to poke and prod at the baby. There were not many kicks, but lots of stretches of limbs that Steve followed across my abdomen, one so big that it felt like she might pop right out of my skin.
So with these fairly irregular contractions this afternoon that are more intense than usual, I have been trying to keep myself calm and remind myself that I am not even full term yet. I told myself that waiting anxiously was not the way to spend this month and that I should prepare myself for a June delivery. Despite all of that convincing myself I would be patient, as soon as the calendar hit May, I became impatient and very aware of every twinge that happened in my abdomen.
I have been told to walk longer walks, to stock up on rest. I have thought about inviting people to spend the weekend in the hopes of making time pass faster, but our houseguest for the past (and next) two weekends has made me realize how truly antisocial I feel. I want Steve, I want him all the time and I only want him. I miss him when he is at work, and consider calling with silly excuses like asking him if we are going to the park after work. I begrudge the people that make me share him with them. I consider these our last few weeks of childhood, in a way, because after we become parents, we will lose our lazy Saturday mornings and our leisurely trips to Rona. After we own a house, there will always be something that needs to be done. And so I cling to him selfishly and unapologetically, telling myself that the people who have been in this situation will understand, and those who have not may understand one day. I tell myself not to think these thoughts, because they are arrogant and selfish and pretentious, and yet I still feel unapologetic.
Milo caught another groundhog yesterday, Steve looked over to where she was standing and saw her holding it by the back and shaking the life (literally) out of it. This time, in an attempt to help her relax, we shower her what we were doing as he lifted it into a garbage bag by a shovel. We opened the bag and showed her that it was inside before Steve tied it up and took it to the dumpster. She was not as frantic as last time when she thought that it had somehow escaped, but still paced and whined a little, checking the holes in the yard and down the basement steps.
Personally, I still think we should charge the landlord a months rent for extermination fees. Steve does not agree. Harrumph.
wunderwuman at 3:37 p.m.