I know, you're like, sooooo over the pregnancy posts on this blog, aren't you? I'm gonna encourage you to suck it up because time is running out for me to discuss the miraculous parts (and not so miraculous) of pregnancy. Besides, you know that if I'm writing this much about being with child, when the actual baby inside of me manifests in physical form outside of my womb, I'm probably going to write about him, too. Tons. And inevitably he will be loads funnier than I am, from day one. I am that crazy lady who takes a million different pictures of her belly and gasps at every twinge, movement and new development, so get over it. It's an outlet, a moment during the day to just reflect and stay calm and not worry about re-cleaning the bathtub should the baby come too fast and I have to give birth in it. It's connecting with other moms who feel all of this, just can't get the words out. It's amazing and weird and totally disgusting, but it's a once in a lifetime experience with the best kind of end result. Once (in a lifetime). I didn't stutter. Ya'll women with 2 or 3 children are insane and wonderful and strong beyond what I can even imagine. Anyone with 3+ children is, and bless your hearts, completely bat shit. But I admire you, all in your tin foil hat, rocking back and forth steadily while a hoard of children runs in circles and smears food randomly about your house, probably causing irreparable damage to each other in the process (who needs sanity, anyway). Christ have mercy on your soul.
So. Here's the latest--I peed my pants. I don't know how else to say it because it is what it is and really, I'm only mildly ashamed now that I've come to terms with it. Normally I wouldn't shout from the hills that I should apparently be wearing some sort of geriatric undergarment but at the time, I was pretty sure my water had broke. And. I. Was. Ecstatic. In total disbelief. Quite frankly, I stared at that wet spot on my bed for a good 5 minutes like it was the Ark of the Covenant before tripping over my own feet to run and grab my phone so I could text my sister-in-law. So we talk. She's excited, too. Now am I sure it's my water that broke, or did I piddle? Did I piddle, psssh, I tell her I am almost 30 years old, I'm pretty sure I would know if I pissed my own pants. We laughed and she instructed me to lie on my side and see if anything else leaked out or gushed or came out like the Rains Down in Africa...and nothing happened. Nothing at all. Biggest let down ever. I was so sure it was the time that I was in labor, but mostly I was sure my water broke because never in my adult life have I wet myself. Again, I mean, wouldn't you think you would know? No is the answer.
Oh Dear GOD, I peed myself and didn't even REALIZE IT. I was so caught up in eating the delicious, calorie-laden Taco Bell taco that I had been craving for weeks but denying myself that I PEED MY PANTS AND DIDN'T EVEN FEEL A THING. Well, I'm never going in public again, or riding in anyone's car for that matter, because I'm not sure I can explain if I accidentally mark my territory on the passenger seat of my friend's new Scion.
Oh, and this just in--cankles. Every woman's ideal spring fashion accessory.
Regardless of the fact that I'm openly a pants-pee-er now and my legs are roughly the size of Tom Brady's ego (what?), I'm still happy and quite excited for the arrival of our little one. Any day now. We'll try to fit in a few more posts before the big day.
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