Today, I Love You.

Let me start off by stating that I am in a mood. It’s only a few weeks into my third trimester, but eight more weeks of this feels like a never ending crapshoot. My second trimester was smooth sailing, and Stupid Me thought I could just sail through my third the same way. NOPE, DUMMY. I don’t feel prepared for the baby to arrive (because who the hell is ever prepared? I want to meet you and then slap you,) but I will gladly take unprepped newborn chaos as opposed to feeling like my pelvis is going to shatter whenever I stand up.

The hormones have shown themselves, and they are terrifying. I made it through most of this pregnancy fairly level-headed, or about on par with whatever Not-Pregnant Me can pass off as level-headed. Those days are gone. I made pizza for dinner last night and almost threw the dough across the damn room because I couldn’t stretch it out without getting huge holes. Adam had to swoop in and simultaneously make pizza with my bullshit dough and rub my back while I sobbed in a chair. My makeup is collecting dust because I don’t even bother; I am going to cry it off. Every mild setback or inconvenience sets off the waterworks. Can’t remember the HBO GO password and it’s somehow no longer saved on my laptop? Crying. Get home from the store and realize I forgot to buy two minor, not-urgent things? Crying. Want a cupcake but I already had four? Crying.

*ETA: I was trying to save a draft of this post and the internet is being a slow idiot and won’t do it. Crying. Right now. Someone tap me out of this dickness because I am finished.

So in honor of this mood, I am going to make things worse and dedicate this Today, I Love You to things I miss while pregnant. Nothing like marinating in that pain so I can feel like I really earned the Ben & Jerry’s pint I am going to destroy before I use the empty container to catch my tears.

Today, I Miss/Love You

Wearing my wedding ring

I have crossed the fat/swollen threshold into the period of time where my rings no longer fit, or are not comfortable. One of the most frustrating parts of my postpartum body last time was how long it took me to be able to wear them again. Granted, I have gained much less this pregnancy, and this point came much later than it did my first pregnancy, but still. The bigger annoyance is going to come when old people start being weird to me. When I was pregnant with August and couldn’t wear my rings, I went to Home Depot to buy some plywood so I could fix our wire shelving in the pantry. I was wearing Adam’s shirt and gym shorts. The old man helping me insisted I buy a piece of messed up wood because he could give me a discount on it, and then told me to “save that money for the baby’s college.” Yup. Thank you, sir. I will take that $2.14 and buy the lil’ bastard a highlighter.


I didn’t realize how crucial brie was to my happiness until I couldn’t have it. If you have never had a brie, green apple and pesto sandwich, I highly suggest you get yourself some good bread and indulge in that shit posthaste because it is a life changer. Have some baked brie for me, too. Ugh.


What goes great with cheese? Everything because cheese is perfect. But also some cheap, shitty, delicious champagne. Every time I have a hormone-fueled meltdown, all I want is a beer. Cannot wait to have my good buddy back in my life so I can self medicate efficiently.

Moving when I wanted to move and sitting when I wanted to sit

This pelvis business is a blinking neon middle finger from my body, all day and everyday. If I sit for a few minutes, I know I am in for some serious pain when I try to get up again, followed by a lot of hobbling until I can ease myself into being fully upright. If I stand too long, I feel dizzy and weak, plus the pressure of fluid building up in my legs is no picnic. So all day is spent shifting from sitting to standing with a few other positions thrown in because my body is weird as hell right now. It’s like all day Catholic mass and I am not pleased.

My clothes

Maternity clothes are mostly ugly as balls. I have a few basics that aren’t the worst, but I am pretty limited in what I can wear day to day. They all take up this tiny section of my closet. Whenever I go in there to pick something out, I have to look at all my clothes that don’t fit (and aren’t going to fit for a while) and these little visits bum me out. I miss my tshirts and my sweaters and my favorite leggings. Going in my closet reminds me of all the fun we used to have together. Then I reach past them all to grab a maternity tank top and a hoodie for the zillionth day in a row and it hits me right in the feels. I miss you, clothes. I miss you all. I will return, one day. And I’ll buy you lots of new friends.

You all know as well as I do that this whining about being pregnant is going to be immediately replaced by whining about not sleeping and not being able to make the baby stop crying and being covered in spit up. Since we all know it, none of us should feel surprised and none of us should talk about it when it happens and all of us should stock my fridge with beer and my freezer with ice cream. Specifically, The Tonight Dough because every time I try to buy it, it is sold out and it’s only a matter of time before that makes me cry, too.


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