8 Weeks

This just in, I can't do this for another two months. This baby is fu**ing huge and when I do so much as eat a pear, I feel like I've consumed a basketball and chased it with a puffy down jacket drenched in water that weighs 80 pounds. There is no room. No room for food, for air, my organs. And I have two months left. What the shit am I going to do?

I know, the third trimester is designed to suck this bad so that I'll convince myself that labor is a good idea. I also know that I have no socially acceptable alternatives but to accept my situation. It still sucks.

My homevisitor, whom I love, gave me a depression screen the other day and low and behold, I'm depressed. Well, no shit I'm depressed. I'm in the field, and even if I wasn't, the fact that online shopping does absolutely nothing for me anymore was indication enough. Don't fret, I'm not going to drown the baby or drive us into a lake, which always seems like a god awful way to go, no it's not that bad. It's just that I can't wear my jeans, or go for long runs, or drink my rose while I'm cooking food that doesn't nauseate me. I can't eat blue cheese or salami, or anything for that matter, without seriously paying the price. I can't exercise the way I want to or do the yoga I want to do. Also, I can't sleep and if you've ever been depressed you know that sleep is just so awesome. Nope. When I try to sleep my esophagus fills up with burning acid, and down south, we've got the restless legs. T O R T U R E. I do eventually fall asleep and then around 2 am I wake up and lie in bed researching the epidemiology of serial killers, starting with Hannibal Lecktor because he's my favorite. By 3:30am, I'm dying of thirst and I have to pee but I'm too terrified to leave my bedroom so I lie there until Rich wakes up and it's safe to wander about the house. (I realize some of that is my fault.)

THEN, my favorite thing happens. I get to drink my one cup of coffee, which admittedly has become a cup of coffee with half a cup of whipped cream on top. It's the best part of my day. As I near the end  of my cup, my heart sinks, for I know it's all downhill from there.

I do appreciate you listening. I should probably stop whining and start dinner. Cod po' boys with a hell of a lotta remoulade. Doesn't that sound delicious? It was seriously the least disgusting thing on Pinterest.

Peace.