Monday, September 27, 2010

The glamorous parts of pregnancy.





















I'm getting to a marginally less attractive part of pregnancy. It seems I'm moving gracelessly from adorable baby bump to My, Dear you certainly are pregnant.
To make things more exciting the veins in my belly and chest have gotten considerably more blue and multiplied. A roadmap of weird vein is taking over. Accentuate the pale. That's fabulous! When I first noticed this I thought something was very wrong, but the internet assured me in it's best motherly tones these veins simply support my baby's growing needs.
And well, don't remind me I don't have varicose veins. Because I seem to have one that comes and goes at will on my labia. Enjoy that knowledge gem.
And my breasts hurt. Yours too? I'm sure, but I double over sometimes thinking "OH GOD, SOMETHING IS WRONG! CALL THE MIDWIFE!" I hate to call the midwife. It's either a stupid thing to be ignored or a reason to go to the emergency room. I hate both of those answers. Anyway, Sunday I broke down and phoned, because I was pretty sure I was going to die. And as firmly and kindly she explained this was just another miracle of pregnancy. My breasts are preparing to feed a baby, and for some that just feels like crippling pain. Hot or cool compresses might help, but really they don't.
As if my breasts weren't on my bad side at the moment. I am fully puddling out of the top, bottom, front, left, right, and center of my 34DD bra. My friend sent my a "G" bra priority mail, and it only sort of fit - it was a bit snug for such a made up sounding bra size. I'm worried once engorgement from breastfeeding sets in I will never be able to find or afford a bra. ever again. I haven't found anything under the $50 mark and they generally involve a lot icky flesh tones, granny shapes, and spandex. I actually get the sniffles when I think about this too much. It's true. My breasts make me cry right now. Thinking about my future breasts gives me honest to God anxiety.
Ah, I would get sad, but today I can't stop farting. And I'm a farts are funny sort of girl. So, I crack up every time I toot. This part is actually cheering me up.
Pregnancy is magical. I'm making a human being that shares my genetics, my husband's genetics and just a little fairy dust. You should expect the process to get a little freaky, a little gross at times, and still. I say, WHAT, WHAT IS HAPPENING HERE?


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