Life

Hide Your Crazy

I am an idiot.

Literally.  I am.  This baby is sucking the teeny shreds of intelligence I had right out of my head.  I am so scattered brained, it’s defeating.  I just stared at my screen for about 5 minutes trying to focus on what I wanted to write about…something I thought so clever and amusing yesterday, that no matter how hard I try, I can’t even grasp an essence of what it was.  I can recall the conversation I had with a client about it, us laughing, but I cannot for the life of me, remember what it was!  And so, to you, my readers, I apologize.  You are missing out, because whatever it was, it was funny.

I took my glucose test this morning.  I had decided I was just going to skip it, as I’m already a week late for its deadline anyways.  I’ve never had gestational diabetes and I’m healthier now than I ever was, so I’m sure I don’t, but heaven forbid there be an issue with my pregnancy…I’d end up blaming myself for being so selfish and lazy.  But there’s not many things worse to me than starving myself then going to a bloodwork facility, drinking that drink (which I really don’t mind at all), and then waiting for an hour with a 19 month old, until I have properly overloaded my system with sugar and they can finally take three tubes of blood.  The best part is when they say, “Be sure to let us know if you feel dizzy or as though you are going to throw up and we will take your blood immediately.”  Whatever expression my face made definitely made her smile awkwardly and then stare at the ground immediately.  I probably showed my pregnancy fangs.

Pregnancy fangs?  These are fabulous little accessories that come with the territory of carrying a child, which then evolve into daggers in the eyes.  You know, the mom look, the one that is so effortless yet effective that your kid knows there’s trouble coming if he sees it.  Regardless, the mom eyes begin as pregnancy fangs…think vampires or cats hissing.  We preggos do it without knowledge we’re doing it most of the time.  For instance, this morning, my dear sweet husband said that my feeling of starvation must be what it’s like when he is on the first day of a cleanse diet.  Well immediately, my fangs showed and he saw them.  The poor guy…he’s just trying to come up with some sort of way to relate to how I’m feeling and my immediate reaction is to mock his diet.  These were my exact words,

Oh yes, babe.  You feeling hungry for one day is definitely equivalent to me being 30 weeks pregnant, unable to eat anything, all the while making breakfast for three kids, lunches for two, and hearing you joke about what you should eat for your third breakfast, when I know I won’t be able to eat anything until at least 11:00.”

The poor guy.  All you poor guys.  You just don’t get it.  You can never compare anything that has happened to you to us, and by us, I mean the women who are going to or have already, bore children.  Your wildest imagination cannot create any part of what it must feel like.  For instance, my friend’s husband had a vasectomy and while recovering (the entire two days it takes to recover) he says, “I think I finally know what childbirth feels like.”  My friend, God bless her, put her fangs away and didn’t say anything, but we all know that a vasectomy in no way, shape, or form, can ever compare to either pushing or having a baby cut out from inside of you.  It’s a procedure that takes a few hours to undergo and a few days to recover, not 10 months plus an additional 6 weeks.  I’m sorry.  I may be irrational, hormonal, and half crazy while I’m pregnant, but this conversation, I win!  Pregnancy trumps any and everything you ever try to compare it to, even if you’re trying to be sweet and show your wife that you feel empathetic towards her.  You are better to be sympathetic and say how sorry you are and you can’t imagine how she feels, then go and tell your friends how crazy your wife is, than to try to act like you can possible relate.  You will just become a victim of an irrational vampire.

This entire post sounds like it’s coming from a babbling, mad women, who in one breath says she’s baby brain dead and in the next says she wins any and all conversations that try to compare pregnancy to anything.  And is referring to herself in the third person:)  Yes, I am aware of all of my grammatical errors today as well as its incoherency, but I just don’t care!  It’s my blog and you chose to read it and continue reading until the end.  For that I will say, thank you, and ask you to say a prayer for my poor, sweet husband that has to put up with this nonsense.  Maybe I will actually remember what I wanted to write about tomorrow!

 

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