Baby girl does NOT have a cleft palate. She’s just perfect. (Take that, mean OB/GYN!!! How darest thou judgeth me whenst thou clearly doth not understand how, if I’m off my medication, I go batshiz crazy??? This I did express to thee and thou choseth to judge me anyway. In plain English, neener neener neener!)
I’m in a weird mood. I’ve gotten about 5 hours of sleep over the last two nights. I’m in a good deal of pain, what with the stretching of my stomach to accommodate my sweet little girl, the leg cramps I suffer from every night, the pain in my lower back and my knee from all the added weight, and persistent headaches. And I’m feeling a bit emotionally disconnected from people I love. I find myself often thinking negative things. Nothing dangerous, really. I try to self-correct, but I’ve never been much for the Behavior Modification theories on dealing with Bipolar. Why? Because I refuse to say that there is anything wrong with the way I think. Sure, it’s sometimes destructive, but that’s what the meds are for, amiright? (The answer to that, in case you’re wondering, is yes. I don’t care if you disagree. Wires being crossed funny in my brain does not denigrate the way my thoughts are formulated. No matter how irrational.)
I’m relieved that our little one is doing well. I’m just so ready for it to be March already. I love feeling her kick and wiggle. I love that she moves around all the time and that she is healthy. But I am ready to hold her and launch into that frightening adventure that is parenting. I want to hear crying and giggling and cooing. I want to see her yawning and sticking her tongue out. I want to know her. I have fewer than 19 weeks left, which really doesn’t seem like much. But the first 19 weeks dragged by. And two of them, I hadn’t even conceived yet!
Now that the birth boards have calmed down a bit, I’m rather enjoying them. These ladies say the funniest things. Sometimes when I’m feeling down, they really pick me back up. There was an entire thread about curing constipation by being more adventurous in the bedroom. All conversations eventually lead to talking about food, sharing pictures of sexy men, or posting memes about unicorns and pooping glitter. I’ve learned so much about pregnancy from these women, and they’ve shared parts of their lives with me. I’ve shared parts of mine with them, and they’ve been incredibly supportive. Most of the time. There’s the occasional heinous comment or judgmental know-it-all or weirdly religious person who insists that anything but missionary is a sin against God. And the threads about vaccinating, circumcision, and abortion NEVER go well. So I avoid those unless I’m already angry.
Life is relatively calm. I’ve got a few highly emotional things in the works, but they don’t just apply to me and, for the privacy of others, I won’t reveal them on a blog. But I get to go home to a cat who ignores me, sometimes a husband who adores me (or he’ll come home two hours later), and today, I will go home to a 15 minute wait for a large pepperoni and sausage pizza. Don’t judge. I’m freaking starving.