Archive for September 10th, 2008

You to Thank

I got all sniffly, warm and fuzzy reading your comments. Thank you so, so much, for you all made me feel so much better. Throwing up or not, it’s so nice to not feel so alone, and I can’t thank you enough. Perhaps not surprisingly, most of the crap I’ve had to field comes from real-life friends and family who are pushing me to eat more and/or acting shocked and appalled that I’m still feeling this way, and implying that it’s all in my head, because SURELY I’m far enough into the second trimester that I should be feeling better by now? Maybe throwing up is just a habit? (A HABIT. SOMEONE SAID THAT. LIKE IT’S UP THERE WITH BITING MY NAILS.)

Perhaps the most murderous I’ve ever felt was the other day when our home was being inspected for sale and the buyer’s father came along to help his son out. In the span of fifteen minutes, he threw a rock at a hornet’s nest, creating a swarm of angry yellowjackets and trapping us inside; complained passive-aggressively that Sunny was sniffing his socks by admonishing her, i.e., ME with, “Young lady, didn’t your owner teach you not to do that?” (Uh, no? I taught her not to sniff crotches, but I thought feet were acceptable? Especially INSIDE HER OWN HOUSE?) and finally, plopped himself down on the couch with an iced tea (from me) and said, “So! Dan tells me you’re pregnant! Isn’t pregnancy the best? It’s such a wonderful thing to experience.”

I had just thrown up an iced coffee in the downstairs bathroom. Did he hear me? Was he MOCKING ME? Or was he just … making conversation and I’m an oversensitive lunatic who is angry about the hornets and the dog and P.S., had just THROWN UP?

This, by the way, was right up there with witnessing a man (A MAN) tell my friend Nicole, who’s having trouble nursing her seven-week-old son and has to supplement, that no no, she can’t let the child go off the breast! It’s much healthier! His empirical evidence was the fact that he had two sons, one sickly, one hardy (guess who was breastfed). She was too flabbergasted to speak, and I’m sorry to admit that I was, too, because I was afraid I’d grab a hold of his manly bits and twist until his face turned purple. In my opinion, neither dude has the right to say anything until they’re the ones a) puking up their lunch of pie or b) desperately nursing an infant until their nipples bleed and STILL getting a diagnosis of “failure to thrive”.

So again, thank you. I’m now at least marginally confident that I’ll end up with a baby that is semi-normal sized, with ten fingers and ten toes and not, say, skeletal and starving upon his or her grand entrance to the world and be whisked off by child protective services in the maternity ward.

Also thanks to all of you, I took my second-ever pregnancy nap today, brought on by a migraine (what every puking pregnant lady wants!), and I didn’t even feel the slightest bit guilty about it. Normally I felt too lazy and indulgent to do something like that, because there are female GARBAGE COLLECTORS who must do their jobs while gestating, and my heart perpetually goes out to the woman — excuse me, Sandwich Artist — who worked double shifts at the Subway restaurant in town (OMFG SUBWAY). So who am I to bitch about my cushy work-at-home WRITING JOB that does not involve smells or trash or lunch meat?

Incidentally, a relative gifted me with The Pregnancy Journal, which is a day by day guide to, uh, pregnancy (no kidding) and it’s really very cute, except that this week’s recommended food is sardines. SARDINES. I know that pregnancy is known for bringing about weird cravings (which, I’m sorry are more like the only foods that aren’t EVIL), but I have never known a pregnant woman who was all, YES PLEASE. SARDINES. Let me eat weird bony fish packed in Mystery Mustard Sauce in a yellow, paper-wrapped CAN.

That’s all I really wanted to say. I mean, the thank you part that is, not the sardines (but still, sardines? SERIOUSLY). We’re off to Syracuse after work tomorrow for the weekend, and I promise to bring back pictures, at least so there will be ONE photo of me while pregnant, and in a dress to boot.

Have a great weekend, everyone.

*Ben Folds. Perhaps I can call him twee again and his mother, bassist or best friend will come out of the closet?

26 comments September 10th, 2008


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