So I dragged myself out of bed, let him outside, and carried the kennel and base out front to spray off with the hose. The entire time I was seething: it was cold and windy, and the water from the hose kept catching in the wind and coming back to spray me. It smelled. Actually, it smelled a lot. Then, I went back inside and noticed there was throw up on the wall. (I'm sorry if this is too much information, but I need you to understand my pain.) So I got a sponge and some bleach and got to scrubbing, trying to tell myself I'd still be able to fall back asleep for awhile before I had to get ready for work.
Finally it was done. The living room was noticably vomit-free, Dega was happily recovering, and all I had to do was wash my hands and go back to bed. I was holding it together pretty well, until it happened: I opened the drawer in the bathroom to grab a washcloth, reached in without thinking, and touched a spider. Not just any spider, the Spider King. He made those spiders from Harry Potter look like babies. (Actually, no. I don't want to talk about those. *shiver*)
I lost it. I started sobbing uncontrollably. I tried to kill it, but he hid in the corner like the highly intellectually evolved creature that he is, and I couldn't get him. I just cried harder. I remember thinking, "Well, this is a slight overreaction." but I didn't care. After a minute Caleb woke up, patted me awkwardly, and killed the spider with ease. Once he had calmed me down, he went back to bed, and I went to the store to buy a pregnancy test. And that's how this little guy came crashing into our lives.
My point being, from then on out, pregnancy has not been my friend. I learned early on that there's no such thing as "the glow". It also doesn't matter how badly you wanted a baby, or how prepared you thought you were: you are not going to enjoy morning sickness. And you're going to have a hard time being grateful for any pregnancy woes, no matter how much you love the little stranger.
I won't lie to you, this pregnancy has been anything but easy. I went from wanting a big family, to thinking, "Maybe just one kid wouldn't be so bad..." But the hardest part of pregnancy, for me, hasn't been sharing my body with this little baby. It's been sharing my body with the rest of the world.
You see, this strange phenomenon happens when you become pregnant, where suddenly you aren't your own person anymore. Everyone touches your stomach, all out rubs your stomach, or stares awkwardly at your stomach like they can't imagine what you could be hiding in there. Suddenly, you are a vessel for this child that they are all eager to meet, and the fact that your stomach is still your stomach does not occur to them.
And forget about having any privacy. Suddenly, the changes your body is going through are public information. Stretch marks? Diarrhea? Constipation? They need to hear it all. But that doesn't stop them from cringing when you actually tell them.
My favorite so far has been the unwanted opinions on baby names. Here's the thing: of course I have been thinking about baby names. I've been thinking about baby names since I was a kid. I've had names I like picked out for years. It would be impossible to wake up every morning to this kid's foot lodged in my ribs and not think about what his name is going to be. I've watched him grow on ultrasounds. I've played him music, talked to him, and felt him kick like he's a soccer star. How could I not think about his name?
That being said, what makes everyone think they get an opinion? To the few people who knew some of the names I liked way before I got pregnant, I heard a lot of negative remarks. I like different, unique names. You don't need to recommend the name Matthew to me because, believe it or not, I've heard it before.
Caleb and I decided early on not to announce our baby's name once we decided, because I knew all it would take is a few weird looks, a few negative comments, and I would let them change my mind. I made the mistake of letting a few people get it out of me, and I can tell you that with the next baby, I am not saying ONE WORD.
(On that note, we really don't know for sure what his name will be yet. We've got a few choices, and one in particular that we are leaning towards, but we are waiting to meet him first to see if it fits. So don't worry. The day will come when you will all know, I promise.)
Until then, I just have one request: no more comments on how I "just keep getting bigger." No telling me to sleep now while I still can, because trust me, I'm trying my best. No horror stories about your own births, or the birth of a friend of a friend of a friend. I know it takes it a village, and I'm grateful for all the people who already love this little boy.
But for now, I am going to cry when a spider touches me, so it might be best if you don't touch me either.
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