For the past 48 hours, I have assumed the role of a royal scrooge. This totally isn't like me, and after the best month ever and such great news on the preggo front, I am feeling supremely guilty about my poor attitude.
I just need to...vent. I don't need sympathy, but cannot figure out a better way to get over this 48 hour slump than to write about it. (What I probably need is someone to tell me "snap out of it crazy preggo!"). It's not that I am sad, or scared...I am just kind of pissed at the world. For no good reason. But below, I will surely attempt to make it seem like I have a shred of justification. But the truth is, I don't...and that makes me feel even worse.
Don't get me wrong, I had a moment or two over the past month when I have broken down and cried (when I was sent to the hospital before x-mas, when I was told by the Peri I was going to deliver later that day before I hit 34 weeks) but I wasn't ever really in a sour mood--just momentarily overwhelmed.
For this spell of poor attitude, I originally thought it was an "off" day after my bestie Bec and "hubster" Adam left (still need to blog about that miracle of miracles). But upon more reflection think their departure sort of signaled the end of the holiday season for me as well as the end of family visits--and I realize that as awful as it would have been to deliver over Christmas, I would have had family around...sister and brother-in-law, in-laws and mother. And now, within a week, we will be alone again--and yet again no one in my family will witness the birth. Gosh, I really am tearing up just writing this! I know there is an element of sadness felt by all of the departing family that they didn't get to witness Kilo's birth--and I have fleeting moments of feeling guilty, but they wouldn't be the ones going to the NICU every 3 hours or working tirelessly to initiate breastfeeding with a preemie. And so I have this strange mixture of feeling angry that any of them would want the baby to be born before "term" but also sadness that they won't be there. Can one really maintain that duality of emotion?
What the hell is wrong with me? Is this what happens after you hit 34 weeks of pregnancy? I thought the hormones were raging in the beginning of pregnancy...but this was unexpected!
-I hate Scrabble. I cried last night during my turn in Scrabble with my mom and Eric. (Eric pissed me off with inconsistent rules). Who cries at Scrabble?
-I have consistently awful nights of sleep (read: no sleep). And I cannot take naps as if my body was secretly hard wired by some awful preggo hater to get mentally jazzed up the second I put my head to any soft surface. I am not sure I have had a stretch of sleep for more than 45 minutes.
-I have no appetite anymore because the second I eat, I feel so full. And yet, my belly is so huge now I am clear out of all maternity clothes and am resigned to a wardrobe of about 1 dress and 2 sweatpants. And although I have avoided all lower extremity swelling, and seemed to lose 2lbs this week, my face somehow looks like the swollen remnants of a street fight. (Doesn't help I have no desire to wear make-up).
-I got a $26,000+ hospital bill. Who knew overcooked canned beans, trans fat crackers, colace and IV sugar water cost so damn much? I just added it to the mountain of paperwork and bills I need to start addressing, um, yesterday.
-My company decided to start my FMLA/maternity leave mid-December. If I deliver on time, this means I may only have 5+ weeks with Kilo. (This really sent me over the edge...I had 6 weeks with a preemie last time, and SWORE I would never, ever work someplace that didn't give me the full 12 weeks).
-I cried at Scrabble again tonight. (When will Eric realize you just don't challenge your pregnant wife in Scrabble--even if she claims gloven is a word?) I cried just because I lost. What, am I in fourth grade? Not sure how many fourth graders are waddling preggos...scratch that, I think there is a series on TLC about pregnant fourth graders-right? It follows the "I didn't know I was pregnant but squeezed out a baby while trying to poop on the toilet" show.
-My mouth bleeds excessively when I floss. There is nothing worse than feeling like your dental hygiene is restricted. Oh, and I cannot easily reach my legs to shave them. I am contemplating taping my razor to a yard stick.
-My house does not feel like my own. And I just know the day I go off of bed rest I'll be too huge to really do the thorough cleaning I want to do, or immediately have a baby. I am so thankful that I have had such great help cleaning the house, but I haven't had control over my "stuff" for months now--there is something about clothes folded the way you like, and cabinets cleaned and organized in a way that makes sense to you that can really provide satisfaction.
-Over the past 2 days I have been jealous of every living soul who has been able to fill my dishwasher, pick up my son, and walk out of the house without the bed rest mafia coming at them (i.e. Eric). Cabin fever has never felt so awful. I somehow convinced my husband to take me to get a hot dog across the street just so I could get in the car on New Year's Day. I really didn't want the dog, and felt supremely ill afterward, but desperate times call for desperate measures.
-Miles, with whom we have worked so hard to establish a flawless bedtime routine of him going down at 7-7:15pm, fully awake without a tear, has been going to bed at 7:45pm or later, and requiring at least two five minute spells of him crying and Eric going in to calm him down. And he is waking up earlier and earlier and has had a few nights of waking up in the middle of the night, too.
-Kilo's movements (as well as my contractions thank god) have seemed to slow down. I've never worried about the little guy, and now I am finding myself counting his movements throughout the day. This has been the first time I have really worried about Kilo's health.
-I really hate Srabble.