38 Weeks: The descent into madness

Do you see these lists? These are the lists of a crazy person. A crazy person who was up at 5 a.m. yesterday, vacuuming the laundry room and washing baby clothes. Sterilizing baby bottles that might see some action a month from now. Maybe.


But look, my little fashion maven's closet is pretty well in order.


I wish I could say the same for my closet. I got as far as taking everything out of it before I lost my momentum and needed a rest.


Oh, and here is my hospital bag. Yeah, probably going to want to get hopping on that one.

I cried today because the cat wouldn't stop meowing at me when I was trying to make myself something to eat. Husband reminded me of some study that said cats make the same noise as newborns to make humans feed them, and assured me that I probably only cried because I'm so hormonally geared to be sensitive to crying now. I think it was nice of him to say, but probably I cried because I am just that crazy.

I'm beginning to get miserable enough physically and mentally that I get why women just want it over with at this point. I think I'd be fine going the two weeks to my due date, but after that ... I don't want to think about it.

33 Weeks

My 33rd week is now complete. It was kind of a bummer.

I had another one of those mood episodes. I pouted and I cried and I felt miserably sorry for myself, but I couldn't help it. It was all hormones I swear. It culminated last night in my crying hysterically over the news report of the death of that oil-well firefighter guy Coots Matthews - but not because I found it so sad. I was crying because I thought his name and life story were hilarious. I didn't FEEL like laughing, I wanted to be SAD. How dare his story cross my consciousness and interfere with my pout.

Anyway, Husband got me some Taco Time for dinner and I got over it.

I saw my OB today. I gained another 5 pounds over the last two weeks. You know, at this rate, 200 pounds is not out of the realm of possibility. That would be so awesome. I would totally take a picture and ask all the time, "hey, remember when I used to weigh 200 pounds?" Spoken like a true asshole, I know.

Getting Back to ... Normal?

I apologize for my extended absence, to those of you who might have noticed. We took a vacation last week and although I had my laptop with me, I figured I should try and be present in the moment rather than sitting back and blogging about it.

So here I am, fresh from a week in the sun, but not so much feeling rested and peaceful or whatnot. Something happened last week - some sort of crazy hormonal earthquake - and I have been feeling a little down in the dumps ever since. I think it's beginning to pass, and no one is more grateful than Husband. He is not used to having a wife who cries because he is not being supportive enough when he says something like "hey, don't worry about it, it's no big deal," especially when it really IS no big deal.

He's also not used to a wife who cries over a make-believe stockyard scene in a made for TV movie and then mopes all the way through a nice steak dinner. For reals.

But it's getting better. I really do feel like the hormonal floor just fell out from under me there, and now I'm getting back on my feet. Self-medicating with red velvet cake and ice cream seems to be helping greatly - I highly recommend it if you're feeling low yourself.

I shoulda known better than to go to the dentist

I got diagnosed with my first pregnancy complication yesterday: Pregnancy Gingivitis.
Basically this means that my mouth is a cesspool of nasty gum eating bacteria.

Yummy! Who wants a kiss?

I guess my Sonicare toothbrush lulled me into a false sense of security. Kind of disconcerting I hadn't noticed that my gums are swollen and bleeding.

I was given a very stern flossing lecture by the hygienist, who showed me how to do it just in case the problem was actually that I didn't understand the concept. Then the dentist came in and cheerfully told me that the pregnancy gingivitis usually clears up all on its own around the same time the pregnancy does.

Ha! Did you hear that, Hygienist? You'll never make me floss.

Trimester 3: In like a lion, out like...well...

Okay, so technically my third trimester started Thursday (according to my iPhone), and technically it's not March until tomorrow. But all things considered, I think the whole "March comes in like a lion, goes out like a lamb" thing is perfectly a propos to my situation. If by "out like a lamb" you mean big and puffy and bleating a lot, which is how I envision myself in 30 days time.

The lion part? Let's just say the ol' Tagamet HB that the nurse recommended I give a shot before getting a prescription for the real stuff is not going to cut it. I need the hard drugs. Stat. I can't eat anything, at any time of day, without creating near fatal levels of acid reflux. I'm dying here. I woke up every night this past week choking on stomach acid. It was so bad Friday night that all day yesterday I had that lump-in-your-throat feeling, the one that hurts extra bad when you think too hard about why your throat hurts (festering acid burns) and makes all food and drink completely joyless, if not painful, to consume. Seeing as eating is all I've got, I take this very, very personally.

Oooh, and also, I had my very first hormonal nervous breakdown! Yeay! You know, I was so even-keeled up to this point that I was worried I would miss out on this great pregnancy side effect completely! I'm so happy that it looks like I am going to get to experience the pregnancy psychosis after all.

It was all because Mo left on a business trip. For a week. That I'd known was coming for at least a week. Now, keep in mind that in our time together I have sent him off TO WAR. Multiple times. Into Iraq and Afghanistan. Not knowing when exactly he would be home. Not knowing when exactly I would hear from him either via phone or email. I drove him to get on the plane for a FOUR MONTH deployment to the middle east and managed to keep a smile on my face the entire time. Kissed him goodbye and said "I'll see you when you get home!" and didn't even cry as I drove away. Um, fast forward to pregnant Tori, sobbing face down on the couch because he was GONE and I wouldn't hear from him until he GOT TO THE AIRPORT TWENTY MINUTES LATER.

Now, I feel comfortable blaming this episode on hormones because there was a part of me in my brain that could step back and say, "wow, you're really losing it. And really for no good reason. This must be the hormones talking." And eventually I was able to recover - and even be my chipper self when he called to check in on the unstable woman he'd left behind.

Good times.

I am a fire breathing dragon

I may just be about rounding that corner. That corner between "hey, what's the big deal? Pregnant is easy. I think I'll have eight kids" and "oh my god this sucks I hate it more than anything get this thing OUT OF ME."

Maybe.

My complaint today is that my acid reflux is out of control. I should have seen this coming, and in fact I did. But it sucks nonetheless.

I can't really complain, either, because I am doing nothing to mitigate the damage. I could be wrong, but part of my problem could be the three brownies and two heart shaped box chocolates that I ate between 3pm and 7pm yesterday. Followed by a big bowl of spaghetti and meat sauce and salad with spicy Italian dressing. Followed by my daily quart of ice cream.

Let's see, I vaguely remember a conversation with my doctor a few years back, where he told me I had a choice: either take the daily Prilosec for the rest of my life, or cut out all alcohol, coffee, chocolate, tomato products, and dairy. Since I'm not an idiot OR a martyr, I picked the Prilosec.

But the trouble with pregnant is that you can't take Prilosec. So here I am, woefully eating three out of four forbidden foods at any given time and trying to control the pain with a couple of chalky Tums.

Let's just say that either I'm going to learn my lesson and start eating a little more intelligently, or I will become a REALLY cool case study for the future generation of medical students. The Lady Who Could Actually Breathe Fire.

Or else maybe they'll make an episode of House about me. That would be rad.