Down the Rabbit Hole

We have started attending baby classes at the hospital. There’s a special kind of birth control! So far we’ve learned about the many, many things that can go wrong, and this is all well-before the kid’s old enough to start lighting up in the bathroom shrouded in an ever-subltle cloud of incense and patchoulli.

In one exercise the instructor had all the expectant mothers get together and write a list of the best and worst parts about being pregnant. We made a valiant effort to come up with a few things for the “Best” side, so that the paper wouldn’t be completely uneven. Our “Worst” side was definitively longer. Although one smug woman looked up over her perfectly round little belly and finally admitted, “Gee, I just haven’t experienced any of that. I was never sick, I still sleep through the night, and I haven’t had any heartburn at all.” I thought the fact that the rest of our little group managed to not attack her for that little comment like a pack of savage heartburned dogs shows just how civil our society has become. There’s hope for our children.

Then we got back with our partners and the instructor read off their list of “Best Things About Pregnancy.” It began with “Huge boobs.” Hope may have faded just a little.

I have also started having yet another completely new symptom of pregnancy. It feels almost like…longing. For…

wait.

for.

it…

running.

So I know I am officially crazy. I have jogged, off and on, for about 15 years. Never once have I really felt a sense of enjoyment from it. I was not built to run, I never got endorphins or whatever that good stuff is that you atheletic-y types speak of. It was shit the whole time. Jogging was convenient, free, and something I could force myself to do before I had completely woken up, and therefore it stuck. Not for any sense of feeling good about it. And now, all of a sudden, seven months into pregnancy and lumpy and bloated and waddle-y, I am like, Hey. Remember when I used to be thin and could move quickly? That was kind of…nice.

WHO HAVE I BECOME?

I am chalking it up to Restless Leg Syndrome. We now have two body pillows in between me and The Funasaurus to help keep his shins intact through the night. This’ll all be easier when the baby comes, right?