Once again, it’s time for a DISCLAIMER: I write this blog for myself and my own sanity. A lot of what I write is my own personal opinion. Do I sometimes come across as pretentious and superior? Without a doubt. You might not like my opinion on pregnancy, but then again you might not like my taste in comics. Will I keep writing about those things? Without a doubt. I appreciate all the readers who take the time to read this blog. I honestly never thought anyone would be interested. That being said, if something comes up that you don’t like, please feel free to stop reading.
And now, on to the post!
Ah, pregnancy hormones. For a long time, I thought all the talk about flying in to a rage for the smallest thing or being uncommonly prone to tears was a lot of, well, exaggerated talk. Alas, the hormones have been wreaking more havoc on me than I would like to admit. There are certain commercials that I can’t watch without tearing up, or straight up bursting in to tears. I was a little weepy to begin with, and all the progesterone had just made it worse.
What I really wasn’t expecting was the pregnant rage. There are certain things that I was fairly able to let slide off my back pre-pregnancy that make me want to do a murder on someone now. Don’t get me wrong, they bothered me before, but not like this. Not in the “husband telling me to relax and take deep breaths” kind of way. Some of these things are justifiable annoyances and some of them are downright petty. You can decide which you think is which:
~There are a large number of people who are still under the impression that Shawn and I live with my parents. This is one of those things that makes me want to murder someone. I’m sure the opinion would be different if we were renting a basement suite from strangers, or even friends, but because we’re renting just under 1000 square feet of completely private living space from my parents, we are obviously living with them. I mean, it doesn’t matter that we have our own entrance, our own kitchen, our own furnace and hot water tank… we live with them. Sure, I go without talking to my parents for weeks, but we live with them. Basically, we live in an up-down duplex, but we still live with my parents.
The reason this bothers me so much is because it feels like everyone who is holding on to this opinion has asked us when we’re planning on getting our own place now that we’re having a baby. It’s like up until this point, regardless of whether we have steady jobs, a successful marriage, or any of the things that go with that, we’re not actual adults while we live here. I know that we are actual, real adults, but the fact that many of our friends and family don’t see it that way bothers me. I appreciate having someone who can give me IV meds or give me a shot right when I need it. For both Shawn and I, having help with my illness has been a huge thing. With Shawn not able to get away from his job if I need him, my parents being close is a huge advantage. Also, with the Little Man’s arrival getting every closer, having some help with that will be great too. I don’t know, honestly, what my migraine disease is going to do once he’s born, and it will be a huge weight off my mind to have back-up in case I need it.
We’re in no rush to go anywhere, because we have our own place. It just happens to be attached to someone else’s place, but isn’t that how apartments work for other people?
~This is a general pet peeve that I’ve had for a long time, but my aggravation with it has increased by infinity since the pregnancy rage has started kicking in: I don’t like people that can’t communicate. In particular, I don’t like it when people feel the need to use a proxy to tell someone something. If you need to talk to me, do it yourself. Don’t mention it to someone else with the expectation that that person will sort things out for you. That’s not how things work. We’re all a little guilty of this one from time to time, and sometimes we aren’t even aware that we’re doing it. However, there are a lot of people in my life who do this constantly, and it drives me mental. Do they think I won’t be able to handle a direct confrontation or question? Are they worried about causing offense? I deal much more efficiently with people who come directly to me, and I wish it would happen more often. Do you want us to call you more? Tell us that yourself.
~Facebook. So many people think that Facebook is the be all and end all of the entire world. Guess what? Nothing is going to happen if that adorable pictures gets a million likes. The world doesn’t work like that. Don’t use social media to randomly rant at people in your status. I did this the other day, and the only thing that made me not regret doing it was a friend who managed to turn the whole thing into a joke. I guess you could say that his ties in to the whole “communication” point. Have something to say? Don’t use the internet. (I’m not counting blogs as saying things on the internet. I’m referring more to Facebook and Twitter. Blogs, in my mind, are in a category of their own.)
~If one more person shows incredulity that the Little Man’s room isn’t done yet, they will get a fork in the eye (regardless of how far I have to travel to deliver said fork). There are still nine and a half weeks left until my due date. If his room was already finished, it would be just one more thing to dust and clean; one more place I needed to keep the cats out of. As it is, we have the paint picked out. We have the furniture picked out. The wall decals should be here in the next two weeks. What is the issue? If the Little Man decides he needs to show up, say, tomorrow, he’s not going to be coming home with us right away and we will still have plenty of time to get things sorted. We’re not slacking, we just didn’t feel the need to get a baby’s room up and running when I was still in the first trimester.
~I am all for hand-me-downs. If you’ve been keeping up with the whole pregnancy side of the blog, you know I got a fair few of those from an employee of my mum, and I was very grateful to have them. What I’m not all for is people thinking that we need to have as much used stuff as possible. I know I’m not working, but we have the resources to get what we want to get new. If we found something we loved that was second hand, fabulous. We really haven’t, and I’m not ashamed about that. Being a single income household does not automatically make us poor.
~Being chronically ill already, I’m used to a certain amount of pity from people who just don’t get it. What I didn’t expect was people doling out the pity and saying they’re “sad for me” because I can’t sleep. It always, always comes across as condescending, whether it’s meant that way or not. Don’t be sad for me, listen to me if I need to talk. Offer your support that way. Keep the sadness and pity. I have no use for it.
~Shawn and I have been married for six months. Finding out we were expecting as soon as we got back from our honeymoon turned things in to quite the whirlwind, but it’s what we wanted, and we couldn’t be happier about it. That’s why I don’t understand the, albeit few, people who have said things along the lines of, “Having a baby isn’t really the best way to strengthen a marriage.” I’m sorry, did my brand new marriage need to be fortified? I wasn’t aware. There wasn’t a thing wrong with our relationship before the wedding and the baby, so this always confuses me. Who’s life are they looking at? It certainly can’t be mine. There are some fairly standard woes, but my marriage is pretty pristine. Besides, how would getting pregnant a few weeks before the wedding count as strengthening the marriage? Oh well…
AS you can see, there has been much irritation, whether justified or not. I’ve been trying really hard to just let it slide, but sometimes the hormones just won’t allow it. Even if I do let certain things slide, they have a tendency to creep back up on me and get me all in a rage again for no reason. The “living with my parents” one does that a lot.
For some happier things, the Little Man is more active than ever. I got the chart that I’m supposed to use to track his movements the other day when I was at the OB, and I had to laugh. The example on the chart shows a measurement of six movement on a twenty minute period. You’re supposed to feel six movements, at the least, every two hours. It took me just under five minutes to get eight really discernible movements. He’s been kicking, punching and wiggling up a storm the last few days, and while I love it, love knowing that he’s there, it’s been slightly detrimental to what little sleep I manage to achieve. This morning, for example, he was just settling down when my older cat, the one with the huge purr, curled up next to my belly and got him all riled up again. It was at that point that I gave up on sleep and decided to settle for “rest”.
His heartbeat is still exactly where it needs to be, but he’s measuring two centimetres bigger than he should be. At 30 weeks, he was measuring at 32cm. I shouldn’t really be shocked, as his dad was a big baby as just over nine pounds, but if he keeps on growing that quickly, I’ll have to have another ultrasound to make sure there is nothing untoward happening in there. If he keeps on this pace, everything should be good. I just don’t want him to speed up any more.
I’m also at the point where I’ll be at the OB every two weeks. Normally, I don’t mind going to the doctor. It’s something I’m used to, but we have had an insane amount of snow the last little while, and my lack of snow tires makes driving a little bit more of an adventure than it should be.
That should about cover it. Here’s to more good days for all my pregnant cohorts out there.