A Bitch and a Moan
I don’t generally like to be a sourpuss, but I just feel the need to complain today. Not for any particular reason, really, but because I’ve decided that I’m in a foul mood and deserve to bitch and moan about it for the next few minutes. And also because nobody cares when your pregnant the second time. For reals.
I think I feel whiny mostly because my whole body hurts. Is there such a ting as pregnancy induced arthritis? Because I’m sure I have it. Every single one of my joints is sore. My ankles, my hips, my shoulders. Oh yeah. And my pregnancy carpal tunnel (which I got around 32 weeks last time) is delightfully causing my hands to go numb at night already. Maybe the medical people are right. Maybe 35 really is ” advanced maternal age”. Maybe I should retire my uterus after this child because old bitches should not have babies, not matter how much your hormones convince you otherwise.
And here’s the thing. I’m sure I felt many of these discomforts the first time around, but it was somehow less annoying. I think it’s the novelty of the first pregnancy. Everything is sorta exciting: Guess what honey? I threw up like 5 times today! Isn’t that exciting? Or… I need a an ice cream sundae. Get it now. And Husband gladly drives off to fetch me the biggest one in the city.
And now? The second time around? He’d probably tell me to go fuck myself. Not because he’s being a dick, but because my demands are unreasonable and in the second pregnancy it isn’t cute or exciting.
Colleagues and teachers don’t find it nearly as amusing when I blame my idiocy on my pregnancy brain. I just get the look that says, “Bitch, you’ve been here before. You’ve done this before. Not get your shit together and stop blaming everything on your unborn child.”
But seriously. It’s harder this time. Let’s not even talk about the 3 foot monster that head butts me in the stomach about 50 trillion times a day. Let’s not talk about how pregnancy insomnia is less manageable because despite all the exciting home renovation advice I’m picking up from HGTV at 2 am, I still have to get up in the morning to tame the 3 footer. Let’s not talk about having to juggle work and babysitting and practice and cooking dinner. ALL WHILE I’M GROWING A PERSON INSIDE ME.
And I don’t even want to think about how many more nights my wine glass will go empty. Because that could put me over the edge.
You know, I feel a little better now. Maybe that was just a mood swing.
It’s a good thing I love being pregnant.