So it’s time I get real about what is really happening over here. I’ve been trying to avoid writing this post because:
1. Some of my family members read my blog and will be uncomfortable with the content of this post. Which means if they continue to read past this sentence, it’s their own damn fault if they regret it.
2. Not everyone wants to know about what really truly can happen to someone who is gestating a baby, especially their third one.
So if you are reading this and you fall into one of the above categories, this is your chance to jump ship.
You should understand that I cope with the difficulties of life in several ways, and all of those ways except writing have been temporarily stripped from me because I’m pregnant. I feel very much like I’m locked in some sort of preggo purgatory and all I want to do is drink vodka straight from the bottle and smoke pot. Apparently when I know that I can’t do something, it becomes all I can think about. I have this fantasy of sending all the kids away so I can be completely irresponsible. I get tired of being responsible.
The older I get, the healthier my coping mechanisms have become. Like I try to exercise, and spend time outside and with people I love. But when I am pregnant (or have PMS), I don’t want to do shit and I don’t want to see shit and I especially don’t want to deal with shit.
Part of my current coping strategy is to say shit or bullshit a lot because I can’t do what I really want to do (drink straight from the bottle in the middle of the day). So if this bothers you … you probably shouldn’t be reading my blog.
Husband kept asking me, “Why are you so grumpy?” until finally I TOLD HIM WHY. Then he acted like I was being irrational for ranting like a lunatic when all he did was ask me a question.
First of all, that is a dumb ass question to ask any woman, especially one who waddles around like a penguin. I hit 26 weeks and all of the sudden I have this gigantic stomach I can’t see past. I run into my kids and knock them down and knock them into things and shut their hands in doors (yes, that really happened) because I can’t see them down there.
I feel like a terrible mother and I don’t feel like going outside to play or reading to anyone and I especially don’t feel like chasing anyone down to change a diaper or brush their teeth or make them put pants on because I’m constantly out of breath. Writing that sentence winded me.
I don’t feel like dealing with shit. This makes me feel guilty because ONE and TWO have nothing to do with their little sister who is baking in my tummy, I need to be sweet to them, because our time together as a family of four is shrinking quickly. I try to remind myself of this, and take deep breaths, and tell myself I’m not that uncomfortable and this is not that bad and it will only take a few minutes to help them build a blanket fort to play in.
But. This is my main problem. I have all kinds of things happening to me that no one warned me about. No one told me my vagina would look like this before I even hit my third trimester. So I am telling you, whoever you are, out there reading that if you have another baby THIS MAY HAPPEN TO YOU AND MY DOCTOR SAID IT’S COMMON AND NOT PERMANENT.
I Googled “angry blue monster” and found this little guy and keep texting it to my girlfriends when they ask me how I’m feeling. “I am fine, thank you for asking! My vagina is still angry and blue, and she says FUCK YOU.”
Apparently when you decide to go ahead and have a third child, there is a likelihood that your entire lady area will FREAK OUT on you and be like Oh hell no, biyatch, the entire time. In addition to my lump (it’s a round ligament that’s covered in varicose veins, apparently), I have a very angry vaginal area. It’s ugly and pissed off. I don’t know how else to describe it. And no one has seen it but me, because I have been on pelvic rest for … I have lost track of how many weeks. So there’s that.
I went to the doctor this week and she lifted the sex ban, and that very day, after not spotting for an entire month, guess what happened?
No, really. Guess.
I started spotting again. I also nearly fainted the next morning, and when I tried to wake up Husband to tell him I thought I might pass out, this was his response: “ZZZZZZZZZZZZ.” And then, “Did you make the kid’s lunches?”
I try to avoid talking about our sex life on my blog because Husband doesn’t like it when I go too far, but COME ON. I can’t drink, smoke, have sex, exercise, starve myself so I feel less fat … the list of “can’ts” keeps growing and growing. I am trying not to go down the rabbit hole of self-pity. But that is why I’m grumpy. That. All of it.
I started making a list of things I am grateful for, because that makes me feel better. So far, I have listed (in addition to the obvious ones like my lovely family and friends, and the DVD player in our van):
1. I still have full control over my bladder.