You know? It just really, really does. And this is supposed to be the honeymoon period, isn’t it? Where you revel in second-trimester glowiness, free of the first-trimester barf-exhaustion-anxiety trifecta and not yet at the third-trimester combo of intense fatigue and just-so-sick-of-this-ness? Why didn’t I get me some of that? Somehow, I managed to land myself in a second trimester that has been marked by dizziness and fainting and boob rashes and mood swings. (Yes, I am still crumpling to the floor, even having put myself on a strict diet of iron-rich everything grilled in a cast-iron skillet followed by iron-supplements chased with iron-enriched soy milk. Which means that I have to go back to the doctor for more probes, which, you know, SUCKS, and have I mentioned about the suckage?)
Which, come to think of it: I’m not even in my second-trimester anymore. I am in my third trimester oh my hell. What happened? Where did my honeymoon period go, why wasn’t I there to enjoy it and what is up with my brain cells that I can’t even keep track of how far along I am?
Am going to back to bed. Will catch up with you all later when I am not so fucking whiny and full of miserableness. And when, maybe, I can say something more substantive than ‘I suck at this.’ (Although perhaps not quite so substantive as last week’s 80′s-pop-obsession-with-nuclear-war-fueled-my-teen-angst post, which really made the crickets sing. Which, you know, I totally get.) Anyway. Maybe I’ll have a fig newton, and then go back to bed. You know, so that I can wake up later all cheerful and go-get-’em and shit. I’ll be better company then.
(A question, though, totally sincere-like: is it just seriously bad mojo to be miserable in pregnancy? Am I sending all of my bitchy-vibes directly down through my blood stream and into my uterus where they are toxifying the fetal environment? And, is this all evidence of my general weakness as a human being? Why can I not do this without complaining, loudly and interminably? Help?)