And not just your 'run-of-the-mill pregnancy hormones'... nope, these are nine months pregnant crazy hormones. They're the ones that bring on the nesting that leaves you scrubbing the tracks in the shower door, that has you crawling around dusting the molding around the house... and the ones that make you bat-shit crazy over NOTHING. Yup, those ones.
I had a really good day - I got my hair cut and colored, got my eyebrows waxed, my toes are all beautiful and polished, I registered for baby stuff at Target, had lunch somewhere other than my kitchen counter, and even managed to get my car reasonably clean. My house is clean, my laundry is done, I'm off my icky meds, my kid gave me good lovies before bed... I *should* be flying high. But, alas, I am not.
I'm sad. I'm lonely. I'm uncomfortable. I'm anxious.
The reason these hormones are so stupid is that they screw up your brain so much that you don't even know what's wrong or you're mad about things that haven't even happened [that could also be part of the definition of crazy... but we won't go there right now.] I'm sad. Why? Hell if I know. I want a hug... and not just any hug but a good, long husband hug. I know I'm shaped disproportionately right now and giving me a hug is probably not the easiest thing but I miss hugs. I think I've had two in recent memory =[ I'm lonely... which makes me sad. Double whammy. I've been alone in this house for two months. Even when people were here, I was pretty much quarantined off to the back of the house. So even though the introvert in me liked doing all my errands alone today, it also pointed out that I was doing all of my errands... alone. Then I came home and, after a quick dinner and episode of Tosh.0, I was in the bathtub - alone. Not that I wanted company IN the tub but it was just something else to do alone. But you have to understand where the 'crazy hormone' part comes in... after I was out of the tub and laying in bed, Derek asked me if I wanted to sit in the TV room and watch a show or if I wanted him to watch the M's in the bedroom while I played on the computer - and because I'm [crazy, stubborn, pregnant... who knows] I tried to pretend that I was okay sitting in here alone. I guess it's not just being in the same room but I want to DO something - hang up Cohen's name letters or the curtain rod, go on a date [I would kill for a real, dress up, reservations-required pre-baby date], anything but sitting in front of this stupid TV or this stupid computer for another night. I tried to hint that we should go out but so far I think it's fallen on deaf ears...
Uncomfortable? Anxious? I'm sure that neither of these two feelings are surprising. I have a human living in my stomach. A human that is now capable of living outside, on his own. That means he's big, he moves A LOT, and he has incredibly boney knees. If it's not a butt shoved up into my rib cage it's a knee or foot or elbow [literally] sticking out of my side. And if it's not him, it's contractions. I'm thrilled to be off my medicine but let me tell you, these suckers are just getting started and I am visualizing two [or more] weeks of feeling like an iron band is clamping around my torso and sucking the life out of me. Anxious? I want to have a baby. NOW. I'm done being pregnant. I HATE being pregnant... I'm not one of those happy, warm-fuzzy women who knits blankets and sings lullabies during her pregnancy. I suffer through this because the end result is a tiny person that I love more than I could have ever imagined. But if a real, live stork could have dropped these munchkins off on the porch, I wouldn't have complained a bit. I keep willing my contractions to be strong or praying for my water to break so we can just be done with this part... but I know that I have weeks of this ahead of me, not hours or days.
I don't have a point to this post... aside from whining about my incredibly difficult life [sarcasm] and documenting exactly how crazy I get after nine months of pregnancy... =[ Can we please be done now??