I don’t have it.
I’m not talking about physical grace. Obviously I don’t have that. It’s hard to waddle gracefully and moving around requires plenty of grunting and groaning.
I’m talking about social grace. Emotional grace. That almost transcendant zen-like glow that some pregnant women seem to have.
I want to stab those transcendent glowy ladies with a plastic fork.
(Gee, Molly. Tell us how you really feel!)
Look, I’ve got heartburn, alright? And not just heartburn. Reflux, too. Reflux is really special because it doesn’t hurt. Isn’t that nice? It just means my food comes out of my stomach and into my mouth when I lay down, bend over, burp, lean the wrong way, or forget to take my Nexium.
Also, my back hurts. And my hips. And my legs. Especially at night when I just want to get some sleep already. I lay on my left side and the left leg starts to ache. I hoist my giant self over onto my right side, and my right leg starts to ache. If I accidentally roll onto my back, I wake up dizzy and nauseated.
And you know what else? The hyperemesis gravidarum is STILL HERE! Okay, it’s less like 1st trimester HG and more like a perpetual hangover, but it’s there and I am tired of it.
Apparently I’m also huge. And my baby is going to be huge. And aren’t I scared? This is according to my coworkers. Thanks guys. Rule #1 of talking to a pregnant woman. Tell her she looks gorgeous and leave it at that. I’m honestly not worried about having a big baby. Fat squishes. I’ll birth this baby just fine. My midwives are not concerned, and neither am I. But nothing makes me feel like the love child of Humpty-Dumpty and a hippopotamus than being told how enormous I am.
All of this means that I am exceptionally cranky at the moment. No, I don’t want to hear about your cold. I’ve been living with a perpetual hangover (at best!) for the last 8 months. I don’t care how sick you are, get out of my cubicle and take your germs with you. I don’t want to hear about how tired you are because you stayed up late last night watching this really good movie. I went to bed at 9 PM. I couldn’t sleep. I’m tired, too.
“Molly’s not here right now. These are her hormone’s speaking, how can we help you today?”
Mostly, I’m just done. I am so over being pregnant. I’m at 34 weeks and 4 days. At 36 weeks I’ll be full term and the baby is welcome to choose her birthday any day at that point.
I’m counting down.