Babies R&B (better known around here as "Rhythm and Blues") are a pound and a half this week (rutabagas!) and I'm 183 pounds, which means, VICTORY! I have now surpassed the weight I was when Fable was born. Here is a brief recap of twenty-five weeks + forty-four pounds + two healthy growing human girl fetuses:
And here is the current state of my belly region, which photos do NOT do justice. At least, it feels that way. I'm in hold-my-stomach-when-I-walk-because-the-pressure-is-such-that-I'm afraid-it's-going-to-fall-off-my-torso-and-roll-under-someone's-car-mode.
The babies think my innards are an open-for-business 24/7 water park, which in a way, I love, because I feel like we're bonding over our mutual need to move at all times. (We don't call them Rhythm and Blues for nothing!) But Baby B is so close to my lungs, I have had the wind literally knocked out of me several times, which is new. And if I'm sitting? She's been known to kick me in the tit. Because she's RIGHT there. As in, against my bra strap. I'm having a hard time breathing, especially at night when I lie down and "Blues" seems to be quite the night owl. "Rhythm" is more of a morning person. (She is also a dancer.)
No homeopathic methods will cure my acid reflux so I'm going with good old-fashioned Pepcid AC, which I am trying my damnedest to take every other day (at most) even if my doctor insists it's perfectly safe to take every night. (I'm about as anti-pill/drug/cold medicine as it gets, even as a chronic migraine-haver, so popping anything other than chocolate squares when pregnant freaks me the fuck out. Then again, I've been drinking Venti Coffee Frapuccinos like it's my job so my "logic" isn't the strongest of swimmers these days.)
Peeing has become my second language, which is cool. I've always wanted to speak (fluently) something other than English. Now, whenever I travel to urination, I can.... never mind. That was a much better pun when it lived alone in my head ten seconds ago.
Dress is Puella from Anthro. (I've found that tying the bottoms of flowy dresses over leggings can be a flattering alternative to the tunic. Trying to switch up the 24/7 maxidressing.)
I'll admit, I'm not my favorite person to be around at the moment and although I spent the last four days floating around my parents' pool with a giant pink noodle between my legs (not a euphemism) which felt AMAZING on my bod, let me just say, I still managed to yell at everyone. For no reason. Mainly because I can't help myself. I am possessed by something larger (ahem, smaller) than myself.
I'd blame my bitchiness on hormones if I didn't feel so compelled to blame it on everyone else. I never felt this way with my other two pregnancies and I'm not one for usual PMS so these feelings are new to me. But I figure, that's what these updates are for, yes? The ups and downs of pregnancy! Last week I was in Nursery LaLa land. Today, after spending twenty minutes trying to buckle my sandals, I would like to punch a wall and cry. Again. For the fifth time. In the last five minutes.
Luckily, my parents (and husband) don't take me too seriously when I'm being a psychotic asshole.
That's why I pay them the big bucks.
Larry Woolf: esteemed Physicist, education reformer, commiserative father.