Keeping it Together

Physically, this pregnancy has been a dream. Annoyingly so: I glow. I radiate. My body is doing exactly what it's supposed to without the expected sickness, nausea, or fatigue. No major weight gain so far - my hairdresser gently asked if I had miscarried as I'm still not showing at 17 weeks. The kid is on the move, and I feel great. Empowered. Energetic. Ready to take on the world. I'm even caught off guard when sweet concerned friends ask me how I'm feeling: the other day a male pastor friend of mine asked, "How's your pregnancy going?" To which I absently replied, "It's great! How is yours?" Ugh. So much for decorum. I just don't think about it as the only physical reminders are good ones.

But I'm bitchy. :)

I try to keep it under wraps, but let's face it: there are a lot of hormones and stress factors coming together to create the perfect storm for some pretty imperfect (and often hilarious) mood swings and freakouts. You can tell me 'till you're blue in the face that I'm going to love this kid with all my heart and soul, but for right now, I just don't get it. And I probably won't get it until at least January. Of 2029. The reality is, I'm about to give up my body and our entire way of life for an angry little uncommunicative relative who just won't leave and who will probably poop on us for the next eighteen years.

What the hell have I done?

Me: What if I don't love this baby?!?
Mike: You said the same about the dog, and you love him, don't you?
Me: Sure, but people tend to frown on kenneling your kid.

Mike: OK. I'll love him enough for both of us.

And somehow that made it OK. I like best what Christina Applegate said about pregnancy psychosis. Just watch :40-:58 for the gist of it:

Don't get me wrong: I'm not stone-cold crazy all the time. My personality has always been somewhat saltier than sweet, but now it's like the Tabasco sauce of which I currently can't have enough has been thrown into the mix. My fuse is a little shorter. My temper a a shade hotter. And when something kicks me off, just sit back and enjoy the ride. We will laugh about it later, I promise. (I hope!)

After all, "assertive" often starts with showing your ass.

But I'm starkly aware that God paired me with the right man with whom to have a baby. There's no way I'd make it through any of this if not for Mr. Peacock and his quiet (often equally hilarious) solutions.

Me: What if something happens and I have to have a C-section and I'm not able to take care of the baby and change diapers? MIKE, HOW AM I GOING TO CHANGE THE BABY'S DIAPER?!?

Mike: I'm an engineer with a master's degree from Georgia Tech and access to duct tape. I can handle it.

Maybe it'll be OK after all.

When in doubt, pinky out.

Photos courtesy of daddytypes and bustedspoke.