Monday, May 31, 2010
12-10-09 "The Pregnancy Chronicles: Week 24"
Week 24: Well, it was bound to happen. Stretch marks. On my boobs. Yep. It’s true. They’re there. Game over. Lol. They are huge though. I’m talking I need a new bra bigger. I’m not gonna buy one yet, but I’m officially a 32 D. Rock on, right? They’re really heavy. And it’s funny because they just sit on my stomach. It’s like they got bigger, but I’ve still got the same amount of nerves so it’s almost like when you’re hand’s asleep and you know it’s your hand, but you can only feel it a little. That’s what it’s like. I still like them though. I think maybe I won’t go D when I get the operation. Yes, I’m gonna get implants. After two babies, I get a prize! Scoff if you want to. It’s what you’ll be doing when I’m back in my regular size with huge… what’s the word?… gajongas. Lol
Also, I’m dubbing (or have dubbed) the next side effect: Pregnancy paranoia. I bet it turns into parent paranoia later on. Vivid dreams are already a side effect, but the vivid stays in your head all the time. I can create the most horrible life threatening scenarios for loved ones that can make me cry at an instant. Lola. Ruxbin. Jim. (sorry, babe). Mostly lola and ruxbin’s are graphic. Jim’s are car crashes. Constant car crashes in my head. Probably stemming from the fear of being a single parent or a bad dog mom. I have to tell myself outloud, “Stop it. Don’t even go there. Don’t start. Think of something else.” I hope it goes away, but I won’t be surprised when I think the baby’s dying. I do it now. We had one big movement day where she was rocking out in there. Every day since, when she’s not moving as much as that one day I’m assuming she’s dead and that I have a dead body sitting inside me. Graphic right? Not even the least. I wonder how long it takes for something to decompose inside of someone. Maybe too much Bones and Criminal Minds? I’m telling you. The paranoia has taken me. I’m a shell of what used to be a slightly rational woman. Now I’m almost all emotion. I was dramatic before, I’ll give you that. But not THIS bad. And paranoia is expensive. Especially at the vet. Ruxbin went last night to the emergency vet which is 3x more costly and much further away than my regular vet… who called today. They’re so sweet.
Aside from the stretch marks (which aren’t really that big of a deal) I’m dealing with the distinct dislike for what I’m going to assume is what my mom calls “a lady’s purse.” Terrible boys I know would call it a FUPA. I’m not going to explain the acronym. It’s terrible. I guess it’s what above the pubic bone of a heavy person looks like. I’m hoping to God it’s temporary. Otherwise, I’m gonna get that worked on too. I swear to it. I remember what it was like to feel hot. I’ll be damned if I don’t ever get to feel that again.
I’ve given up pickles. I was eating almost 3 pickle spears per day. I did this for quite some time. Now, I don’t think I like them anymore. I’m quitting pickles. I’ve added lucky charms, which I blame mom for. I’m also still drinking chocolate milk. I’ll let you know if it gets to a point where a big food change happens. Right now, that’s all I’ve got.