Lemon cookies-they like rule.

So, today I’ve heard at least 4 times that I’ve “popped” out.  It’s funny because I’ve felt pregnant all weekend and frankly-most of the last few months, so people telling me I “look” pregnant is still a bit strange.  I guess I must have looked fat before or something. 

 

Also, in the last week I’ve had male clients ask in round about ways if I was pregnant.  When I said, “yep, pregnant” they’ve all said, “Oh, I didn’t want to ask, that’s something you don’t ask people.”  Female clients want to know if I love being pregnant.  They glance nostalgically off to the side and relay their favorite pregnancy moments.  Note: no one has mentioned labor.  I’m keeping a tab on that one.

 

One of our psychiatrists made a popping comment today after lunch as I was going back to my office.  He asked how I was feeling and how my energy was, etc.  It struck me that it was very doctor speak and then he told me I looked great and that I timed the pregnancy well with the seasons, etc.  Not more than a month ago he and the NP joked that they’d make sure one of them was on staff my last trimester in case there was an emergency delivery.  I nodded and tried to wonder off before they registered the shock in my face and said they were joking, but rest assured, they have delivered babies and would catch mine if need be.  (I’m hoping to avoid that if I can.)

 

Back to the goods: I know as a pregnant woman, being told I look great is nice.  Sometimes I feel fat.  I feel unattractive.  I feel like a small penguin.  I’m hungry, and then I’m not.  I’m irritated.  I’m itchy.  My boobs hurt.  My feet ache.  My back hurts.  My skin feels like its being pulled off my back.  Sleeping is annoying, my parts fall asleep and I can’t get comfortable after I get up.  I have to pee a lot.

 

It’s absolutely worth it, but sometimes the physical part of it is a tiring.  There’s a kid growing in my uterus and he’s taking all the liberties.  He saps me dry.  I hate going to the movies now because I can’t regulate the temperature and the chairs get uncomfortable.  I miss things that I used to enjoy.  Like tea and meat.  And, the more I write about it, the whineier it seems.  But, it is what it is. 

 

I’m at work.  I have an hour before my next group.  I have a Physician’s Desk Reference under my feet and it’s time to pee again.

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