My Emotions are like Pajama Jeans

11 days until my due date, but who’s counting?

11 days from now, I will probably as pregnant as I am now. My family’s fortune of starting labor (which is quite different than giving birth) on your due date is one that seems to have not been passed on to me.    

Fertile-great grandmother’s, grandmothers, and my own mother’s fortune is one that was lost when C’s due date came and went uneventfully.

I wish I could write about how I’m doing emotionally, but that’s kinda the problem. Emotionally, I feel like I will at a week post partum. I have a nice thought, and it moves me to tears. I have an unpleasant thought, and it moves me to tears. The sheer beauty of having a nice weekend with C and A—good lord, the tears are spilling down my cheeks just having written that! If I dare finish the thought, I’m afraid the tear dam will burst and I’ll sob myself into dehydration.

So yes…I cry. A lot. Mostly in the morning and at night.  I think my sniffling woke up A last night. 

“Are you crying?” he asked me.

“Yes, but I’m okay.” I said.

“Are you sure?”

Oh my god, your concern for my well-being is so overwhelmingly sweet, my eyes have just flooded over again and I feel like sobbing for at least a half an hour over how much you mean to me.

I took a very deep breath. “Yep.” I said, trying to keep my answer as short and sweet as possible. “Just hormonal.” 

Argh!!! I absolutely hate having to say that—“just hormonal.” But that’s what’s going on. Inside, I swear, there’s a semi-sane and semi-rational me, looking on and snickering over how much I am not myself or how funny it is that certain things bring me to tears. The whole “life is beautiful” phrase is enough to trigger the tears again. 

But—just like pajama jeans—if I’ve ordered hormones to surge through my aching body and cause mood changes now, I’ve also thrown in—at no extra charge—morning sickness day and night! 

That’s right . . . With the purchase of these surging hormones, I not only cry at any and everything, I vomit unpredictably throughout the day! I say unpredictable, but I should make it clear: the timing is what’s unpredictable. That it will happen is guaranteed. I’m great fun at parties, quite stylish, and unable to really commit to anything due to this fantastic extra!!!! I will go from feeling (physically) okay to projectile vomiting faster than you can wonder what’s so special about that stupid gray crewneck t-shirt. I’m loads of fun to be around, and if I’m not crying, I’m probably feeling queasy.

I’m going to go cry and throw-up now.