no, i’m not talking about Beethoven’s twenty odd symphonies or however many there are. nor am i talking about the movement of my bowels, which has, of late, been a real source of disgruntlement. wow, that’s actually a word, no joke. but, i’ll get to that later. what i am talking about is that most special and awesome of movements. the first movement of a tiny fetus that you can actually feel within you. kinda creepy, kinda cool, kinda like gas, and kinda like a muscle spasm. what’s the big deal, you’re thinking, i move all the time. and good on ya.
let me just set up the scene for you. three months ago, i peed on a stick and a faint second line appeared and i knew that i was days, if not hours, pregnant. since that time, i have waited, felt sick, looked in the mirror, been to appointments, been poked for blood, been prodded, yes, down there, felt sick some more, felt really tired, felt like i am getting way too big too fast, written blog posts up the ass about being pregnant, thought about it, ruminated upon it, obsessed about it, and worried, like nobody’s business, until i felt my heart hammering out of my chest at times. every time they’ve put the doppler to my belly, i’ve held my breath, thinking, what will i do if there’s no heartbeat? you get the idea. i slowly climbed my way out of the first trimester, glancing around. is it safe to come out? i am now at sixteen weeks of pregnancy, four months i guess. we made it, little fifi. you just do your thang in there and i’ll just do my thang out here and we’ll trust that the other one doesn’t fuck anything up, ok? deal? in other words, it has been a long three months.
not to say that just because i can feel him/her moving in there guarantees that nothing will go wrong. oh, no, i’ve been through this once before, remember? i am well acquainted with the mountain of worry that awaits me, otherwise known as my life now that i’m a parent. but, we have at least reached the stage when i get a more frequent reassurance that everything is a-okay in there. say, more often than once a month which is how far apart prenatal appointments are.
on top of that, it is simply a crazy, awesome feeling. i’m sorry, men. you may make more money than me (if i actually worked). you may get that extra little bit of respect just for being tall and brawny. you may never have body image issues like i do. and you never have to give birth or experience any of the discomforts of pregnancy (i said i’ll get to that later). but you will also never get to carry your child within your body and feel it move. probably one of the more amazing, cool things in life.
now, on to introductions. everyone, i’d like to introduce, roy, the roid. no, not the kind that beefs me up and makes my penis shrink. roy is my good friend the hemorrhoid. my special pregnancy friend.
roy has been on the quieter side this pregnancy than my pregnancy with ruth. how very nice of him. i thought he had gained some manners. usually, roy is pretty tolerable. he’s one of those friends, who, is not your favorite person in the world, but they hang around enough that you tolerate them, and even get used to their presence. however, as of late, roy has gotten very angry, for whatever reason. i dunno what i did to piss him off, but he has been ranting at me for a good five days now, nonstop.
i do what i can to appease him. i try to calm him down by sitting often. why am i not getting up to shake your hand as you enter the room? roy and i are having a personal conversation. i try to soothe him with preparation h (not a fun buy at the drugstore), which makes me feel about ninety to have to use. he might be a little more calm, but he’s a stubborn bastard.
so, if i seem distracted, it’s not you. really, it’s just roy. he is a tyrant right now. and he talks louder than almost anyone.
oh, i forgot. the shirt is another macy’s buy from my mother-in-law and the pants are just the token ones i wore like non stop last pregnancy. you could call them my pregnancy uniform.