Hello beloved blog audience.
It’s high time I break my unprecedented 3 week silence and post a blog, eh?
Anyone who follows me on Facebook or Twitter is fully aware (because I’m SO NOT the strong silent type) that I have been feeling miserable. We announced pregnancy #2 on Mother’s Day, and ever since then I’ve been fluctuating between around the clock nausea and exhaustion.
I haven’t taken any photos at all (besides a project that I’m going to blog about later tonight) and I haven’t done much of anything productive unless you consider watching American Idol and LOST productivity (and if you do, please call me, because I want to come work for you. I’m totally your girl).
I haven’t blogged, haven’t cooked very much, haven’t been able to keep the house clean, haven’t even been able to run errands that take longer than an hour or two.
I haven’t wanted (or been able to do) any of my favorite things: Starbucks, photography, shopping, and taking Alana to play at various kid places around town.
It’s pitiful. I just have to constantly remind myself of how blessed I really am, despite the temporary awfulness. I have an incredible husband, wonderful daughter, loving and supportive family, and typically, I have my health. I suppose this doesn’t fall into the category of unhealthy, though…since my body seems to be doing what it’s supposed to do.
Growing a baby is NOT my forte, I must say. If a woman ever tells me that she loves to be pregnant, it takes my full concentration not to contort my face into an incredulous expression of dismay and confusion.
Some women glow. Some women look good. Some feel glorious when they’re expecting. I feel NONE of the above. I feel like a pathetic, second-rate version of myself. I will spare you the details (and hope that Rich doesn’t rat me out), but let’s just say my digestive system doesn’t work smoothly when I’m baking my bun. The whole process is just WAY, way off and it yields some very unpleasant results. For me. For my fellow housemates. If we weren’t family, they’d be gone…no doubt.
Add to the humor (and yes, I’m choosing to view it as such), my belly is popping out significantly sooner than with Alana. My pre-pregnangy clothes don’t fit. Maternity clothes are still way too big. Trust me, I’ve been ultra-sexy laying around the house with my nausea and digestive problems while in my mismatched jammies. It’s hot. I’m totally glamorous.
And let’s ponder for a moment just HOW MANY TIMES I could possibly have to pee during the course of 24 short hours? I am totally going to count tomorrow. I really have to know the number.
I can’t help but think back to our dating days. If he could have seen what was coming…
That’s okay, I tell myself…I will totally love him and take care of him when he’s old and grey and his hair is growing from unexpected places. He’ll have his turn. I’m just miffed that my ultra-unattractive phases have been in my 20’s. What’s up with that? NOT FAIR.
I will end on a positive note. I am so thankful to have a sweet little life-sucking parasite growing inside of me. I pray for Baby Smith’s health and safety, and despite all of the jokes and sarcasm, I love this little critter already.
If you are a woman who is sexy and glamourous when you are pregnant, you are not allowed to leave a comment on this blog post, because frankly, right now, I don’t like you.
But if you can empathize with the aforementioned grumblings, comment away. Misery loves company 🙂