I know, I know that is not the most positive way to start out a blog entry...but after getting less than 2 hours collectively of sleep last night I'm grasping for whatever tidbits of positivity I can to make myself feel better. 'Cause today I'm bloody shot, as they say. I've always prided myself on being someone who not only sees the glass half full, but appreciates that it is glass and not some crappy plastic cup from a bar that's contaminated with BPA. But it's taking A LOT to keep my chin up right now.
I have already called my mother crying a) because she gets it and she's only 1 hour behind me in Texas b) because my husband CJ is 3 hours behind me in California right now and most likely still asleep. But not to worry I've got enough tears stored up so I can cry to him later when he's fully awake and can appreciate my misery without being groggy. (Um, where's the fun in bitching to someone who's half-asleep?)
I think what annoys me most is that just a few days ago I was bragging to anyone who would listen about great I was doing. I truly was on this incredible feel good streak. I was almost high. I kept thinking, "this pregnancy thing isn't so bad." I was taking on the NYC subway stairs like a champ, running around town performing, having brunch and going to weddings just outside of the City in New Jersey with no pain or swollen extremities. Now just 72 hours later that seems like a distant memory. What really doesn't help is that it's hot, overcast and there's about 95% humidity. Hello?! When the heck did NYC become New Orleans?
What really is scaring the hell out of me right now are my friends- and I use that word loosely- who now are like, "Well you think it sucks now, just wait until the 9th month. You're really going to be miserable." Well, fan-f*cking-tastic! Thanks ladies!
I guess all I can do is do what I do best, try not to wallow in it, remember that this is a temporary state and that the outcome will be SO worth it, and of course I must find the humor in it! That right there is the key to life, right? And it could be worse, I could have hemorrhoids! But I don't so I'm going to count my blessings and be grateful that at least I can still sit and poop like a regular person.
*Just an FYI DO NOT Google hemorrhoid images. It is NOT a pretty picture!
So at 31 weeks Baby Bean is on the fast track for development.
Fingers and toes have been here for a while- as evidenced by the thumb sucking we caught at the first ultra sound and the playing with toes at the third one. But now, eyes and ears are developed, Baby Bean is even blinking now. CJ and I are convinced the sense of humor has been in the making for some time and there's lots of movement going on. All good stuff. I won't be surprised at all if I give birth to an athlete, a dancer, or yes, even a kick boxer. (see My Olympic Embryo).
I've been reading and hearing from folks that now IS the time to really talk and sing to my child. That's all fine and good. Growing up I was in choir in middle school, high school and even church. I'd like to think I've got a decent enough voice, they didn't kick me out, right?. However, I can't read music, but I can play the piano by ear a little. I do love music even if I prefer stuff from the 80's and yes, I love Barry Manilow- which technically makes me a "Blanilow" (a Black Barry Manilow fan). I have reason to believe that's a rare thing because when I went to his concert a few years ago at Madison Square Garden there were only 4 other Black people there- 3 of them were his back up singers. I wish that was just a joke from my act, but it's actually true.
But I digress. What I'm trying to confess is that every time I start to sing to my Little One- be it a nursery rhyme or a hymn that I remember from church and private school- I start to cry.
I'm not sobbing uncontrollably, but it does affect the quality of the song. I'm not crying sad tears, just super sentimental sweet tears. I am so happy to be carrying this child- something that for years I've wanted, but as my past relationships either didn't mature or turned sour I didn't think I'd ever have. So it's a combination of gratitude and love that is the emotion that overwhelms me and I can't get through "An Irish Lullaby" or "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star". WTF??!!
Has this ever happened to anyone else? My kid's going to think I can only sing in staccato.
The Crying Game isn't just the name of a movie
that freaked some men out so badly they had to reassess their sexual identity. It's also what my husband & I have nicknamed one facet of my hormone surges. In our crying game there's also the shocking element of surprise- what is it that will make me tear up or have a complete meltdown?
The couple weeks before I took my pregnancy test were pretty rough on both CJ and me. We had just returned from what was supposed to be our dream wedding & honeymoon in Nicaragua and it was up until 2 days before we left. Thanks to ex-NBA idiot Travis Knight's staff at Villa Noche I was robbed of everything valuable that I had with me except for my engagement ring & wedding band. Since we only left the house for 3 hours one evening there's no question that it was one of the full-time staff members who had a hand in the theft of my laptop (as a writer and comedian you know my life was on there), my wallet containing everything from my driver's license, insurance cards etc-you know, all the fun things to replace. I also lost the remainder of cash I'd brought down, wedding present gift cards etc. And the kicker was that whoever had gone through my things also stole all of the jewelry I'd brought down and most upsetting the jewelry I wore on my wedding day which included a broach from my deceased grandmother. As you can imagine I was a mess for weeks- couldn't sleep, had nightmares an erratic appetite.
Now that I have 20/20 hindsight what I now know is that I was also in my first couple of weeks of pregnancy while this madness was going on. I was just starting to recover from the trauma of being robbed and feeling violated when the VERY first hormone surge happened. It started off innocently enough under the guise of a sweet conversation. I paid my very handsome husband a compliment on his dashing good looks. Because he's not a self-centered ass he coyly replied that I needed glasses. I rebutted with the fact that I had perfect vision because I happen to love eating carrots. Then I asked as a sidebar, "Have you every seen a rabbit wearing glasses?"
To which he replied- "No, but I know of some rabbits who could use
them." CJ then proceeds to tell me how a certain population of rabbits in Australia have fallen prey to a degenerative disease that causes them to lose their eyesight- thus losing their bearings making them super easy prey for predators AND cars. All I'm thinking as a former pet rabbit owner is that these sweet little bunnies are being murdered left and right and becoming roadkill! I'm a Cancerian which means I'm already hyper-sensitive ergo I have the innate ability to get emotional at the drop of a dime. It's embarrassing to admit, but I cry every time I watch the movie Independence Day. Yes, the movie about the alien invasion of the Earth starring Will Smith. But this news CJ shared with me about these seeing impaired bunnies which would normally just unnerve me sent me plum over the edge. In about 2.9 seconds I went from smiling at my husband's sweetness to sobbing uncontrollably for a good 10 minutes. As my father famously said to my mother- my husband then said to me, "Either you're crazy or you're pregnant!" Two days later after I took the test- turns out he was right- but probably on both charges.
