"I keep having strange dreams," I murmured over my finger of coffee. I sipped it as one would a fine scotch.
"Darlin', I hate to break it to you, but you've always had crazy dreams," J said smiling, his eyes teasing me over his own steaming and full cup.
Coffee. Black. Hot.
That's what we drink in the morning. I have a few sips and normally don't finish my finger's worth, because I don't want my baby to be born addicted to caffeine or too small, or jittery or whatever the horrendous findings of coffee and pregnant women studies have concluded.
However, I am also human and fallible; therefore I like to have a few sips in the morning. Among it being one of my comforts (tea another --- naturally decaffeinated of course) it is also delicious and helps keep things... ahem... moving during pregnancy.
I am beginning to tire again. Things are not as difficult as they were during the beginning of my pregnancy and the stupid progesterone, which I never needed, nor should have been on that wacked out my hormonal levels, but here I am beginning the third trimester (!!!) and finding that things are difficult in another way.
My emotions have continued to swing all over the place. I'm not crying as much now (THANK GOODNESS) but I'm once again fighting the overwhelming urge I have to nap during the day again.
I'm not sure why I don't like the idea of it, but I don't. Normally, when I take naps it's because I'm ill or on vacation. Generally sleeping for a couple to a few hours during daylight means that when it's time to go to bed at 8:30 PM (because we wake up at 4:30 AM) I cannot sleep.
I've been "sick," during my whole pregnancy, which basically means, I have puked from day to day and time to time; sometimes more than other times and occasionally I have a day (the day before yesterday) where I am vomit-free (HOORAY!).
I am used to this by now. It's not upsetting any more (especially since it's a HUGE change from feeling sick twenty-four hours a day; seven days a week).
The specialist doctor who works with my midwife; we'll call him Doc Once-ler (like the character in Dr. Seuss, because he's been that in my head since I met him) just tells me calmly that "a sick Mom means a healthy baby," and not to worry about it because I seem to be "simply very sensitive to the hormonal shifts of pregnancy," meaning that as the baby grows and my levels change throughout the day, my body notices and I barf.
He's fabulous. So is my midwife. Seriously, I'm REALLY THANKFUL that they're my team for this pregnancy.
Mostly lately though, I find myself to be exceedingly mentally exhausted.
There are all these questions:
- Do we really need that _____ on the baby list of "crap that's essential,"?
- What if _____ happens?
- Where are we going to put the baby clothes I just washed in our tiny house with tiny closets which are full?
- A _____ can't fit in the _____ , but do we need one?
- It seems as though the baby has shifted and it feels weird, is it _____?
- We got _____ and it's ugly and probably won't _____ anyway, so I'm going to donate it.
- I've been eating mostly fruit, oatmeal bread, some cheese, one serving of protein and 2 luna bars with green smoothies each day, am I _____ up my kid?
- I've had a week and a half off from work, are my clients _____?
- We need to _____ the _____ before the baby comes and we haven't done it yet!
- We still need to buy _____ for the birth and we haven't yet.
- I feel the urge to buy _____ to have it ready for _____, but we agreed not to spend right now.
Plus several more ridiculous thoughts that seem crazy to me-- the other night I realized I was lying in bed awake waiting to hear the front door window break and for the cats to be shot or injured.
Also, I MUST currently have the kitchen counters, sinks and stove CLEAN. Always.
Why? It makes no sense.
Everyone tells me I'm "nesting," which is probably true-- if we had all the designated space finished for this baby, I'd have everything folded and put away, but we don't know how we're going to store things yet because we live with tiny closets and a tiny bathroom and high ceilings but tiny bedroom footprints.
Everything will work out and be organized and fine; I know this.
I try not to assign meaning to everything and just take things one moment at a time.
My partner has been AMAZING (as usual) but things are getting to him too -- cranky pants have been OUT lately.
We've laughed about a lot of things and we'll keep laughing and surviving and saying "oh, isn't life funny and interesting," to one another until this kid arrives.
THEN the REAL difficulties and joys and OHMYGOSHWE'REREALLYPARENTSNOW begins.
Please, oh please, let me make it to that with my sense of humour about myself intact.