Good intentions

There are certain things that, although they are said in a loving tone with all the best intention in the world, I simply don't want to hear as a pregnant woman. I don't mean to offend if you have been the sayer of such things, but this is my blog and I can cry if I want to. Which I probably will, if that dang Pampers commercial comes on again.

"Sleep while you can!"

I do. A lot. And it doesn't seem to make any difference. I'm tired all the time. Exhausted. Also, it's getting harder and harder to get decent rest because of the leg cramps and the acid reflux and the need for five pillows to maybe get halfway comfortable. Also, getting kicked from the inside anytime I lay down tends to mess with things too. But I'm sure trying.

(usually following a preggo complaint) "Already? It's too early to be feeling that way!"

I wish there was somewhere I could check in so I know when I have to right to complain about something, whether it's discomfort or impatience.

"If you think it's hard now, just wait til you have the baby!"

This is like the least encouraging comment ever. I'm already exhausted, stressed, overwhelmed, and uncomfortable. I know motherhood is going to be challenging, but I'm eight months into the biggest challenge I've ever experienced and now is not the time I want to be thinking about how horribly difficult the next 18 years will be if the last eight months were a relative walk in the park. Even if it is.

"I just LOVED being pregnant- it's such a miracle."

If you are a woman who has loved being pregnant, I am genuinely happy for you. A wee bit jealous, but happy. It took me a really long time to overcome the guilt I felt for not loving being pregnant. I tried really hard. But in the end I decided that how I felt about my pregnancy is not how I feel about my baby and that's good enough for me.

"It goes by so fast! Enjoy every moment!"

Every. Moment. Every moment? Here's a little summarized version of my pregnancy so far, which further explains my last response and why I have most certainly not enjoyed every moment. I spent most of the first five months so nauseous I pretty much wanted to die. Before I was given a miracle drug to stop the constant vomiting I lost ten pounds in a week and visited the emergency room twice. I was not enjoying every moment. Managed to get the puking under control after that with the aforementioned medical intervention but still felt really horrible. The couple months after that I had virtually every pregnancy discomfort which I won't go into. And then I was diagnosed with gestational diabetes. Hooray for me.

Here's the optimism part of this post! It certainly hasn't been all bad. Pregnancy is not without its perks, and I have enjoyed some things about it. People are very helpful, and I haven't had to lift anything heavy in a while. I'm a walking conversation piece. Strangers pay me compliments. I don't have to worry about sucking it in when a picture is taken. And nesting is the best thing to happen to my house since ever.

I just have to get through one more month of no creepy belly touching and I'll be good to go.

Baby class

Husband and I started childbirth classes tonight. It was super exciting. That's a lie.

I don't know what I was expecting, but I got there grumpy because we had a hard time finding the place and ended up 15 minutes late (makes us look like awesome parents-to-be, no?). The first thing we did was each fill out our expectations for birth and compare answers, like we've never held a conversation before. Like I said, I was grumpy. Then it moved on to some pretty informative stuff, and then we finished by watching what seemed like an hour-long video on how and why to properly use a car seat.

I felt bad, because I was the one all excited to go and I'm supposed to enjoy learning about all this stuff and bonding with the other mommies-to-be and all that but I just wasn't that into it. Husband was in a good mood because they had free soda. I guess that's something.

Garbage day

My entire day was derailed by a bag of trash getting stuck in the can. How does anyone survive pregnancy hormones?

A letter for Baby

Dear unborn child,

Your parents are pretty good people, and we love each other very much. But there are a few things you should know.

Your daddy rides a skateboard and still thinks farts are funny. He occasionally falls over when putting on his pants in the morning. Your mama would rather watch tv than clean the house and particularly detests doing the dishes. Also, I don't really cook. The lawn is shaggy. There are chew marks on the coffee table from the dogs. I guess what I'm trying to say is we're not exactly "grown up" material.

I'm hoping that I have everything figured out by the time you realize this but in the interest of full disclosure, I just wanted to write and say that we have no idea what we're doing. Probably because we've never done this before. I still feel like a dumb kid about to take on a huge responsibility that I'm terribly unqualified for. Your daddy tells me I'll do great. He's good like that.

I have a lot of apprehension leading up to your birth because I want to do the very best by you, because you deserve my best. I'll give you all I have, and some days that might not be very much but I'll sure be trying. Please be kind. We're only human.

Your daddy and I love you very much, and even though I'm trying to block out how terrifying it will be to bring you into the world, we're very excited to meet you and have you officially join our funny little family. We laugh a lot. We work together well. I'm so happy you've been chosen to come with us through this adventure. See you soon.

Love,
Mum

Glamor in real life- the rest of the story

My last post was a happy, happy note about my wonderful couple of days away from my stinky dogs and my dirty dishes. But real life, amusing and "glamorous" as ever, still managed to find me. Halfway through the first day, I realized I had forgotten my other pair of shoes, so all I had to wear were my Nike flip flops (reminds me of the time I went to go run a half marathon and forgot my running shoes. True story.) I wasn't sure what my other options would have been anyway, though, because my feet have suddenly decided to gain half a size and render most of my vast collection of shoes unwearable. The first night we went to fancy dinner, I went in my Nike flip flops. Super classy. We walked into this place and I instantly felt like I wasn'anchor enough to eat there, which I would have felt even without the shoe situation. This restaurant was pretty hip. And I'm, well, me. With pregger feet in pink Nike flip flops. Thankfully, as soon as the food came I forgot how uncool I was because I'm pretty sure I had the best thing I've ever eaten in my life. Score one for Courtney. Apologies to all my vegetarian friends. The next day I was determined to purchase shoes that were cute and accommodated my new half-size-bigger feet. I had very specific requirements, and happily, I found the perfect pair. Score two for Courtney. I had a cute outfit picked out and felt much better going into fancy dinner the second night. We ate at the same restaurant we went to the day we got engaged. After dinner, the following conversation took place: Me: "Hey! You need to take my picture!" Confused husband: "Um, ok...... Why?" Me: "Because people have been asking for a preggo pic of me and I finally look cute! My hair and make up are even done- now is the time!!" I felt so good about them I posted them on Facebook. Where hopefully someone somewhere will believe that I look that put together all the time and it's effortless. Yeah. Right.