Hypothetical situation: say you’re nine months pregnant. And that for the past two months, you’ve had some kind of weird stomach ailment that… for lack of a nicer way of putting it… gave you “the trots” several times a day. (There. I said it. I’ve been alluding to this stomach bug for ages, but that’s what it is. I know Dave is recoiling in horror right now, because we generally do not discuss Bathroom Issues in our house, ever. But I’m tired of trying to be genteel and use euphemisms, so there you have it. Call it my big Dooce epiphany, I have finally written about poop on my website.)
Ok, so say you had this stomach thing, but it seemed to be getting better for the most part – after many, many doctor visits and prescription drugs. And then one night, your husband is out of town, and you’re trying to figure out what to have for dinner. And you remember that your husband hates all forms of shellfish, and generally can’t even stand to be in the same room with you if you’re eating it, so you figure what the hell? Let’s have some crab!
So, you go to the grocery store, where you can buy a whole, fresh, pre-cooked dungeness crab – and the seafood counter guys will even crack it for you! So all you have to do when you get home is melt the butter, and you can just pull out the crab meat with your hands! Awesome, right? So you’re all excited about your crab dinner, and you get it home, melt the butter, set the table, and then you realize that the crab smells… slightly off. Not bad, exactly. Just a bit more “fishy” than a genuinely fresh crab should smell like. But you taste a tiny bite, and it’s totally fine. And the texture seems ok too. (Because seriously, with crab, that’s the first sign that something is amiss, isn’t it? When it gets that weird spongy texture?)
And let’s not forget that you’re tired as hell (because, remember? Pregnant and having stomach problems!), and you don’t really feel like driving back to the store to return the crab, or figuring out some alternative meal for dinner. So you’re faced with the dilemma: to eat the crab, or not eat the crab?
If you should ever find yourself in this situation, take a tip from someone who’s been there: DON’T EAT THE CRAB. It will only make your slightly-recuperated gastrointestinal tract revert right back to its former “what the hell?” status, and you will spend the next several days in severe pain and discomfort.
So. That’s pretty much a summary of my life right now. And to continue my whine-fest, here are some other things that are making my life miserable and/or generally irritating the hell out of me:
1. The hives, y’all. The hiiiiiives.
They itch like poison ivy, and they’re driving me insane. (Side note: my foot was originally in this picture, and I was going to leave it like that to show off my pretty pedicure from last week. Then I decided that the whole Internet doesn’t really need to see just how puffy my ankles have become, so I cropped it. Also, do you know how hard it is to take a picture of the outside of your own leg? Turns out, it’s pretty challenging.)
2. That Baby Girl has apparently settled herself on a nerve ending, so I keep having shooting cramps down my left inner thigh that literally take my breath away. Baths have become my new favorite thing (thanks for the suggestion, Cat!) because it’s the only way I get some relief. I guess the weight of the water makes her float and relieves some of the pressure on my hips. I’m now taking baths at least once a day.
3. The cats. Don’t get me wrong, I love them, but they haven’t been able to go outside because of the snow, so they’re getting all cabin fever-y and acting up (jumping onto tables where they know they aren’t allowed, knocking things over, etc.). And our one boy kitty, Beaumont, apparently has picked up on some kind of Mommy Pheromone coming off of me, because I cannot get him to leave me alone. It’s sweet when he wants to cuddle, but not so sweet when he tries to hurtle himself under my feet as I’m walking (usually downstairs). I’ve issued quite a few death threats against him recently. So far, he seems unaffected by my harsh language.
4. My attention span. Or lack thereof, I should say. Which sucks, since these days my life is pretty much restricted to web-surfing and watching TV. It’s impossible for me to follow a movie plot. Case in point: Dave rented “The Black Dahlia,” because I mentioned that I wanted to see it, and if you asked me afterward, I would’ve sworn that it was some kind of eight-hour epic that should’ve been broken down as a mini-series. Y’all, it was 121 minutes long. Two hours and one measly minute. And it nearly killed me. It’s gotten to the point where I have a hard time even following the Daily Show (and it is a sad, sad day when Jon Stewart can’t make me laugh). I’m now pretty much just watching “Friends” or “Everybody Loves Raymond” reruns. Pathetic.
5. Most commercials, although one in particular – the new Match.com ads. Last night, the sound of Dr. Phil’s voice made me throw my head back and groan so violently that Dave thought I was having a contraction. (I’m sorry if there are any Dr. Phil fans reading this, but I absolutely despise the man. I want him to just. go. away.)
6. This post from Shannon, which makes me remember that of course I am incredibly grateful to be pregnant, and happy that our baby seems to be healthy and thriving (even if the same can’t be said for her mother). It just sucks that there are so many people out there who would be amazing parents – or who already are amazing parents, and would continue to be amazing with their future children – and that the universe/God/whatever can sometimes seem totally arbitrary and unfair in deciding who gets to have babies and who doesn’t. This also applies to one of my very dear friends who’s just starting to undergo fertility treatments with her husband, after they’ve been trying to get pregnant for over a year with no success.
I realize there are bigger injustices in the world, I just don’t understand how the world can work in such a way where we have idiots like this who seem to have no problem reproducing, while so many families – who are completely full of love, and who could provide a safe, supportive environment for a child to grow up in – are presented with challenge after challenge when they try. It’s not fair, and it just flat-out blows.