Poop

I imagine that for the next few years, my life will be filled with all kinds of shit. I am talking literal and figurative here, folks. But for right now, I want to concentrate on the fact that I feel that I deserve a fucking trophy for having moved my bowels this morning for the first time since the birth of our daughter, Charlie. I mean, granted, she is a great prize and all for what I went through, etc., etc., but really, that first poop that you take after childbirth is a doozy. I now can say that I have a pretty good idea of what it would feel like to shit razor blades.

Thank God they tied my tubes. That's all I gotta say.

Busy

It has been a while since I have written anything on here. I could use the excuses that quickly come to mind, like my soul and time-sucking job, topped off with my emotionally exhausting pregnancy, two girls who are very needy in very different ways, and trying to maintain the great groove that my marriage is in...but the reality is that I really have no excuse why I have been neglecting my blog. Really, if I were to go all therapist-y on myself, the answer is in the fact that I simply did not want a record of the past few months of my pregnancy just in case things did not go very well. I am still in shock about how I am, in just a few short weeks (and despite all of those pregnancy-induced hysterical "OMG, I AM GOING TO BE PREGNANT FOREVER HAHAHA AND I REALLY REALLY NEED A STIFF DRINK AND CURSE YOU PLACENTA FOR ALLOWING ALCOHOL TO PASS THROUGH" moments...) going to have three children.

I am not one who enjoys being pregnant anyways. I don't like the extra attention, people treating me differently (like the lawyer who tried to carry my work bag for me into a conference room...WTF? Would you have done that if I were not preggers?), and the questions, oh the endless questions...When are you due? Do you have any names picked out? Three girls! Oh what is your husband going to do? etc., etc. I hate gaining weight. I hate the fact that my pants can't stay up, the fact that my boobs are now bigger than Alexis's head, the fact that I have had to adjust every single thing that I do to accommodate this huge ass belly. Feeling this child move, while reassuring on one hand, is actually quite painful...literally. She must have an octagon set up in there because I swear to God she is cage fighting. Either that or she is going to be FREAKING HUGE. I prefer to imagine the cage fighting.

There are people out there who will tell me to shut the fuck up. That I should be grateful that we figured it out, that I carried the baby this long. That I should be mourning, not celebrating, the fact that this is the last time EVER that I will be pregnant. To those people, I say....come here and let me kick you in the crotch. Numerous times.

I think that I have earned the right to say, "I have been busy" and ignore the obvious fact that I am totally ignoring a large chunk of my emotions regarding my life at this point. If I did not, honestly....I think I would have cracked up a long time ago.

So yeah, let's say I have been busy. Let's say that life got in the way. Let's say that instead of saying that waiting for this miracle is the most stressful thing in the world and that I am terrified. I don't always have to be a therapist, right?