Monday, July 22, 2013

Goodbye wild and crazy past, hello diapers, onesies, and stretch marks.

I've made it to the home stretch, and I am not talking about those nasty little red lines all over what I use to think were acceptable thighs or boobs. We'll get to those in a little bit and yes, I did just tell you that I now have stretch marks on my boobs. Along with patience you also lose most of your modesty during pregnancy, not that I had a whole lot of that to begin with. (Also, I just got this vision of my mother reading this and her saying out loud something like... "yeah but you still refuse to let me in the delivery room when the time comes." Sorry Momzy, in that moment I may not care who sees me delivering a watermelon but I'm sure a couple of days afterwards the reality of it will sink in. Some parts of a person's body should only be seen by the person who help put them in that condition. Just Saying)

Anyways... the purpose of this blog was to tell you that I am getting closer and closer to the end every day now and THANK YOU BABY JESUS for that because holy macaroni y'all... I might be one of the moodiest, most swollen, irritated, uncomfortable, about to tear my own spine out craziest pregnant women I've ever known. I am so tired of the, "worth it" and "well at least" speech. I totally get that it's all worth it and I am sure it could be worse, I don't even want to imagine how it could be. I have always known I wanted to be a mother but let's be honest here, MAKING A PERSON IS HARD WORK and everyone has a different experience.  I haven't slept a full night in WEEKS, I have to schedule outings very carefully because my left leg stays numb 100% of the time and to long on my feet sends a shooting pain up my spine, my back is KILLING me and I know if I feel the stress (which usually causes a couple of contractions) then I know my kid has got to feel it, and my feet only fit in shoes two sizes bigger than my normal size or in my two pair of Columbia Drainmakers. (Thank God for Columbia! Seriously guys, Columbia drainmakers are the best! I discovered them last year on my honeymoon and now I am convinced they were secretly designed for pregnant women. I normally use them to fly fish because they have drains so the water doesn't get trapped in your shoe and they are made out of this great light weight material that breathes really well. Which means swollen pregnant feet stay cool! Plus they are pretty wide, more room to swell in)

It is a strange thing to find yourself in this position. I thought before this I had a few more years of doing the things I did best. You know, running a muck, drinking ice cold beer, traveling around with my handsome husband killing stuff. (By stuff I mean animals that are in season to all you greenies that stumbled upon this blog by accident. I should worn you now, we are hunters and there are probably pictures of dead animals that we harvested on this blog. Just Saying. Also, I'm only adding this in because some "anonymous" dumbass recently left me a cute comment about how I shouldn't hunt or fish for poor defenseless animals. Umm... at least I know what's on my plate. Can you tell me what preservatives are in/on the foods you are eating?) Back to my point, it's a funny thing how I went from putting an outfit together in my head all week for Saturday night to day dreaming about what his nursery will look like when I am finished with it. And going out, sheesh, I hate leaving my house now. I would rather spend all day and night in my house. I don't like to even go into my front yard because I honestly have no interest in seeing anyone for the most part. My friends call and ask if I want to do something and I'd rather stay home and sew something or nap then leave my drive way. BUT, even though I am becoming a fat, grouchy, hermit, I am completely excited about meeting my son. It's a strange feeling when you suddenly realize that you love someone more than you could possibly love anything else (next to your spouse of course). It's a different kind of over protective, I'll kill you if you talk crap about my kid or look at him wrong kind of love. He is not even here yet and I do this weird thing  when I walk into a place... I examine the room, look to see who is there and develop a million different scenarios and escape plans in case anyone/thing could try to come at me and hurt my precious little bump. I also have taken inventory of every weapon or item that could be used as a weapon in my home just in case anyone ever tried to break into my house. Not to mention my greatest weapons have become over protective, bitey little individuals. Ti and Murph stay as close as possible to me all the time now, I am convinced they know.

Anyways... that is enough for tonight. I had this whole ending planned up but holy shit y'all I am tired! More crazy rants from the hormone driven lunatic later.

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