I know understand the uncomfortableness. I'm particularly not fond of the feeling of my boobs resting on my tummy, resting on my thighs. How do fat people do it? I don't mean that in a mean way.... I really would like to know. How do you do it every day, fat people? Can we agree: it's just not a nice feeling to have to unstick your tummy in order to move your leg sideways while sitting.
And, since we're talking about it, it's a pain in the ass to have to travel the extra foot from plate to mouth now that I can't skootch up to the table all close. The precariously sitting food on my fork threatens to jump, adding yet another stain to the front of my large blouses. And then--as if that weren't annoying enough--I can't pick up the damn fallen piece off of the floor without unsticking my tummy, moving my leg, pushing back my chair and getting on all fours. I have almost given up hope and succumbed to resting my plate on my rack of a belly to eat.
I can also understand why the mumu was created.
I'm also finding it difficult to sleep more than 6 continuous hours--potty breaks excluded. Why am I so tired at 8, but can't manage to get to sleep until 11 and then wake up at around 5? The naps probably don't help, but they're so good and I'm not really left much of a choice now am I?
I'm also super hungry. And thirsty. But the last thing I want is another litre of raspberry leaf tea. Bleck! You are fast earning a place next to liver and hominy on my food preference list. And if you haven't noticed from my first point, I'm pretty well over the getting fatter phase in my life, so decreasing my desire to eat would be grand.
Also, I could do without the calls from friends and family and roadside chats with complete strangers weighing in on when i should go into labor. Listen, folks. I'm due today, but likely won't gush water all over the floor in front of you (how many soap operas have you been watching anyway?) and I don't really want to talk/stress about how I should hold in or pop out my baby right now. Just chill.
And, I don't really care at this point about your pregnancy or birthing experience. Just keep your mouth closed, comrade, and smile all nice at me. You should have talked to me when I was a less pregnant, trained doula fascinated by that kind of crap. But, no, you decided to wait until I was ready to burst to hold me hostage and reminisce about your labor(s).
The same goes for all of you asking, "c'est pour bientôt, oui?" and "est-ce que tu as haute?" or whatever it is you ask that I'm not doing a particularly good job of transcribing right now. In response, I'm clearly full-term at this point and, yes, the birth is imminent. And, no, I wouldn't really use the terms excited or anxious. It's cool, man. I'm trying to create a zen-like peace in me right now, so please stop fucking it up. It makes baby upset.
Braxton Hicks can go straight to hell. You started off all cute and exciting, like a little internal hug, and I appreciate that we're practicing here, but can you knock it off when I'm around mixed company? What was all that about last night at dinner with the neighbors? Act right, or your not invited next time.
But, I would like to say "thank you" for the following:
- I still don't have heartburn or trouble breathing. Go, go gadget torso! (I could do without the random gas, but I'll take it for efficient digestion.)
- Good job, New Zealand, for being on a weird time schedule and allowing me to catch up with a best friend at 5:45am.
- Ankles, wrists and feet, keep up the good work. You're keeping your form in this time of struggle and I want you to know that I appreciate it.
- Trailer Park Boys and Nova Scotia, where would I be without you?
Now, my dear mother arrives this evening and--as I've been carefully instructed--only after a good nights rest can the real fun begin and we can finally get on with things.
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