I’m currently 32 weeks pregnant with Baby #2, and honestly have wanted to blog (maybe even vlog!) the entire experience from the moment we found out, but, you know how it goes. Life. Especially when life involves a marriage, a Terrible Two-ddler, a full-time job, and maintaining a household. Among many other things. Familial, social, and association commitments. The side gig with my hula sistahs. Carving out some much-needed “me” time in there as well. Sometimes it feels like my (preggo) brain is a spinning top, and big picture, it’s a wonder I’m able to get anything accomplished. I realize I must sound like I’m complaining. There is PLENTY for which I am happy and incredibly grateful. So much. Things could be so, so much worse, so I try my best to maintain perspective. Have compassion, for myself and others. Exhibit patience. But I am by no means perfect, “with it,” or altogether “put together” on some (actually a lot of) days. If only there were more hours in the day, I suppose?
I’m now at a point in the 3rd trimester where sleeping, sitting, standing or anything else that can even remotely push pressure on my joints gets incredibly uncomfortable in a hurry and I kinda-sorta should have my hospital bag packed, just in case. (I don’t.) So yeah, I admit it, I’m READY. I want to cry “Uncle” say “matte” already! SIGH. (No wait, that was a deep breath!)
I will say, one thing that has helped my sanity and staying on track (as much as I can anyway) is diligently writing in my Passion Planner and keeping up with it, and checking in weekly with my Accountability partner. Freakin’. Lifesaver. I have been writing the friendly reminder “Give everything 5 minutes – JUST START” in my planner for weeks now, and it’s been on my mind to login here and throw up a blog post. Something, anything.
However, these days what really, truly moves me to action is Emotion or Feeling, and right now I have to admit I’m… Fucking irritated.
Why is it that people just say whatever the fuck they want to a pregnant lady? Here’s the deal: If you don’t have something nice to say, don’t say anything at all. If you find yourself sitting in awkward silence in the presence of a pregnant lady and don’t know what to say, don’t say anything at all. If what you’re about to say is something other than “You look GREAT,” with a big smile on your face, DON’T FUCKING SAY ANYTHING AT ALL.
I’ve heard it all, during this pregnancy. I don’t know what prompts totally complete strangers to ask “When are you due?” I’m sorry, do I even fucking know you? Or the very inappropriate “Good thing you’re having a c-section!” Um, what? Or how about when family members jokingly ask “Are you sure there’s only one in there?” Um, thanks? Like I don’t fucking wake up in the morning and know what the fuck I look like, how I feel?
Like I’m *not* the one LIVING this 24/7? Fuck.
OH and everyone, and I mean EVERYONE, is asking if we’ve chosen a name yet. Well I’ve decided I’m not saying shit about it, either way. I don’t care about anyone else’s input other than my husband’s because it’s OUR decision anyway. Everyone else gets to find out when we leave the hospital.