It started with my ankles. And then moved to the toes. And then the calves. And then the dreaded pregnant face. And all of a sudden the lip quiver came and the hot tears arrived. There was no stopping the pity party I was about to throw, and the hormones saw to that.
Hormones! For the past week or so, I have intermittently fallen into bouts of crazy pregnant woman. It's real, it exists, and it's totally okay.
By the end of the work day, my ankles are at least twice the size. My entire bottom half (and fingers and occasionally, my face!) feels swollen. The heat + the pregnancy + the 30 extra pounds I'm hefting around are taking it's toll on my cup-half-full way of thinking. And then I start crying and pouting and I'm Mrs. Crank, president of Cranky town. It's a hard cycle to break once it's started. My thoughts are mostly irrational ... "SO HUGE. SO PREGNANT HUGE. SO SWOLLEN. SO SWEATY! MY BABY WON'T LIKE ME. WE CAN'T DO THIS! I'M NOT READY. MY ANKLES! OH NO, CANKLES! IS HE MOVING ENOUGH? THE PREGNANT FACE HAS ARRIVED. WE HAVE 6-8 MORE WEEKS. I'LL BE CRAZY FOREVER. NOTHING FITS. STRETCH MARKS! OH HELL, STRETCH MARKS! WHY AM I STILL CRYING? THE BED IS IN THE WRONG SPOT. WILL I EVER STOP CRYING? ..."
And so on.
But thank the lucky stars it's only temporary and then I return to my 'ol self and realize it's all good. We're fine. Frankie says relax. My ankles will eventually come back. And my baby will like me more than anyone has every liked anyone in the history of the world. And my husband loves me and my roundness & stretchmarks & cankles. He has to - that's part of the marriage oath he took. And so what! My body is creating a miracle and of course there will be war wounds! Battle scars! Evidence to show my baby boy later on to make him know I was serious about bringing him into this world.
Now if I could only find my wedding ring, we'd really be set. Pray to the magical wedding ring finders please?