moody, opinionated, & sometimes offensive

Being pregnant has definitely been enlightening. I thought I knew a lot about pregnancy- and maybe compared to some people, I did/do. But being pregnant has definitely taught me even more.

I’ve always been the girl who steps in to help the pregnant women. “Here, let me get that for you” if she drops something and has to bend, or if she’s reaching for something on the top shelf, or at work and something is heavy-ish. That’s just me. But being on the receiving end, well, it’s weird for me.

I’ve always been “super woman” (although that’s probably too strong a phrase, but whatever). I always work hard, rarely asking for help. I could push my body beyond its limits and be okay. I could force my tired body to pick up the pace and walk faster. I did pretty much everything for myself, and accepting help just wasn’t me.

Some things I’ve learned I already knew of, just didn’t understand- like being dead tired after doing nothing.

So, without further ado, here’s some things, in no particular order, I’ve learned since being pregnant.

  1. It is A-OK to accept help, it doesn’t make you weak.
  2. Eventually, no matter how hard you try, your posture will start to slump. I have done pretty well in keeping my back straight, but since I hit about 35 weeks, I’ve noticed I’ve been catching myself slumping over a lot more frequently. And it’s easier to just stay that way because my back hurts…but then my dear baby squishes herself into my ribcage and being slightly stooped, it makes it even more uncomfortable. Guess she’s helping me keep my back straight. Haha.
  3. My feet hurt! I hate my feet being touched, but during this pregnancy, I’ve accepted foot massages because after working, they kill me. My feet never bothered me before, but I guess the added weight baring down on them gets to them.
  4. Leg cramps. Holy cow, the leg cramps. You know those charley horses you get in the middle of the night? Yeah, it’s way worse. Usually I could eat a banana, and avoid getting them for another six months or so (don’t ask, but it worked). I have tried eating a banana every day, but nope, I still get these cramps. I’ve increased my water intake. Still get them. Granted, drinking more water seems to help. I honestly didn’t know about leg cramps in pregnancy. I didn’t know it was a thing in pregnancy until I started experiencing them, and looked it up. My mom then informed me, that yes, leg cramps are a very painful part of pregnancy.
  5. Round ligament pain. I am pretty sure I have heard of it, but didn’t really understand it. I hated it…I had it pretty bad the first trimester and mentioned the pains to my doctor, and she said it’s very normal, but if the cramps got really bad or came with spotting/bleeding, give them call. That never happened, and eventually they went away.
  6. Of course pregnant women like to eat…but for me, I didn’t know you could stuff yourself and a couple hours later, be ready to eat again. If I stuffed myself, I was done for the day. These last few weeks, I can eat like a pig and feel fat and miserable. And then a couple hours later, I’m in the kitchen looking for something to eat. This came in the third trimester, in the first two, if I made myself full, I was done eating for the majority of the day.
  7. Ok, this one is probably TMI, but I’m including it anyway because I seriously had NO IDEA it was a thing. And after searching the internet and reading forums, neither did many other women. Genital itching. No, no yeast or bacteria infection, not an STD (duh, you get tested at the beginning of your pregnancy). Just…itching. Painful itching. And you just want to scream. Some women speak of experiencing it from the early weeks until the baby is born. Others mention not getting it until the last several weeks, and it lasts til the baby is born. Both groups of women assured the women asking about the itching that once baby is born, the itching goes away. So that’s a positive, something to look forward to. They mention different ways of finding relief. For me personally, putting ice on the area (I put it in a sandwich bag and wrap it in a wash cloth) helps soothe the area. Usually keeps the itch at bay for a few hours. Not enough help, but if you’re laying in bed relaxing, it’ll stop you from scratching. And you can probably get a nap in. Which is always awesome. I also left my pants off when alone in my room, to let air get to the area. Again, offers small relief. So, I tried the personal feminine wipes to clean myself thoroughly every time I pee (get the sweat off my body) and using panty liners so it kept my underwear dry and when it got wet, I could simply change it. That has brought the most relief. (Oh and obviously showering every day helps, too.) I finally just bought the off-brand of Vagisil because 1) it’s cheaper and 2) the two active ingredients are the exact same. That has brought the most relief. I finally slept peacefully, without being awoken by a terrible itch. Oh, and I noticed a small relief when I upped my water intake.
  8. I have finally learned that it’s truly better to go by weeks than months. I always found it annoying when I asked a pregnant how far along she is and she said weeks. Like, can’t you just tell me in months? Well, sure. But weeks is just better. And you can figure out the months yourself when someone says how many weeks.
  9. Random people will randomly congratulate you. Literally. Out of nowhere I’ll hear “hey congratulations!” and I turn around and they’re smiling at me and pointing. Um…thanks.
  10. Sleep is your favorite activity. Or mine anyway.

So there it is. And I’m sure there’s other things, but offhand I can’t think of them. It’s growing late and I’m tired.

I’ve discovered it is possible to have a break-up without broken hearts. Okay, actually I’m sure that’s not a new discovery, but whatever.

February 2014- I tried to break up with Clay. Although I felt guilty for hurting him, and responsible for him (because I blamed any drinking he’d do on my hurting him…which is bullshit, he was already drinking, and me breaking up with him didn’t suddenly make me responsible), I would check up on him. I told him it was okay to call me.

That’s a major no-no, I’ve since learned. If I’m breaking up with somebody, for their sake, cut it off. Don’t let it linger. For my sake, cut it off. Because I already dislike starting new relationships, and if I’m still involved with the last guy- well, you can bet I’ll stay with the familiar over finding the new.

We haven’t been “officially” together since then, although clearly, we were together. I got my apartment in March, in June he moved in. In August, I told him I wanted him out, I wanted to be done. He begged and pleaded to let him stay because he had court stuff to do, and everything was right around my apartment.

To be nice, I let him stay…sacrificing my own happiness. I don’t know if he ever knew just how miserable I was.

Then came November and the announcement of my pregnancy. And you know what? He decided moving out would be best, “breaking up” was inevitable. Not that he did move out, as when my lease was up, he ended up renting the same apartment.

Later, I commented on that, his sudden willingness to let me go, finally. When I’d been “trying” to leave for months. His answer? “You finally convinced me we wouldn’t work.”

Excuse me? From the get-go, he was always telling me we wouldn’t work out in the future, that we should just have fun now. I did tell him that as long as he drank, we wouldn’t work, because I wasn’t going to stay with an alcoholic.

Just funny how I end up pregnant, and then boom- he’s done wanting us to work, done trying to make it work. Not that he ever tried very hard. He has never spent a holiday with me, or my birthday. Rarely would do anything besides lay in bed with me.

Yet I find it interesting how he wants to play a major role in our baby’s life. Why would you so readily let me leave if you want to play a big role? Because…that makes no sense to me.

I’m Controlling?

So I went over to Clay’s yesterday afternoon, and spent the night. He had work in the evening, but before he went, he and I got to talking, and while I don’t remember how we got to this, he was clearly not saying something. I kept pressing him, and he finally said, “You’re very controlling.”

Um. What? I mean, okay, I’m not completely blind to my faults (or at least I hope not), and I know damn well I do have controlling tendencies. But I really do try quite hard not to let the controlling side be who I am. I try to squish it down. I guess I fail…?

When he and I first began hanging out as FWB, I told him straight up (I was a little drunk) that if he ever tries to control me, I won’t speak to him again. I only said that because John Doe got pissed when I wanted to hang out with an old family guy friend (someone who had left state when I was 12, so clearly there had never been anything between us) and he’d try to do the whole manipulate me thing. Which…actually, worked for the most part. There are other instances, but yeah. I wasn’t willing to let another guy make me feel the way he did.

At the same time, I don’t recall ever telling Clay what he could/couldn’t do. One night, he went out with his friends, and said he’d be home around midnight. I had work at 7am, and went to bed without him. I woke up around 1am, and he still wasn’t home. I was slightly concerned, but fell back to sleep. He came in around 5am, and I didn’t yell, pout, hold it against him- nothing. Sure, I was irritated that he came in that late (early?) drunk as fuck and woke me up. I was also pissed he didn’t even text me at all throughout the night to say he was okay.

Maybe I am blind to my faults, because I can’t really think of a time I was controlling.

Sure, the last six months at least, I tell him he needs to quit drinking. I’ve told him we won’t be together if he keeps drinking, although that was last summer.

But that isn’t me trying to be controlling. It’s me wanting my baby to have a sober dad who I can trust to take her for a weekend. It’s me wanting my baby to know she’s more important than a bottle of vodka.

I’ve already accepted after two years that I’ll never be a priority to him; that he’ll never put the bottle down for me. But for our daughter? Please, just stop. Just fucking stop.

I asked him when we went to bed why he stayed with me for so long. He said “hope.”

Hope? Hope for what? To make it work with me? I didn’t say anything else. But all I could think was why?

He says I’m controlling, mean to him (which I know sometimes I was, and I could justify it, but it doesn’t change the fact), once said I’m not the best in bed he’s had (duh, I know he’s probably had a better experience than me, but you don’t fucking tell someone that), and we have like nothing in common.

He wanted me to meet some of his co-workers last night. I said no. We’re not together, and I’m really not a fan of meeting people he talks about me too. It’s awkward.

I don’t know. Sigh.

To Feel Beautiful

I know the boyfriend (actually we’re not together anymore- free to date/fuck whoever we want, so let’s call him Clay) and I aren’t good together. When we lived together, I was fucking miserable, and we argued all the time. Basically, as long as he drinks like a fish, we won’t ever be together.

Since I’ve been at my parents, and we see each other, on average, once a week, we mostly get along. There’s still been fights, but for the most part, we get along great and it just messes with my head.

I’ve always thought when I had kids, I’d be with the dad. That no matter what, we’d make it work for the kid. But, he’s not even willing to try- because that means giving up vodka, and he just can’t. Or won’t. Or both.

Do I even want it to work with him? No, not really. I don’t even know why we stayed together as long as we did. Before even a year had hit, I was ready to be done- but guilt had me staying. I hate myself for that.

I think it has a lot to do with that I want to feel loved, cared for, special, beautiful. And I hate starting over with a new person.

I’m 34 weeks pregnant, and hearing a compliment would be nice, ya know? I mean, my mom, and some of my co-workers tell me I look so cute pregnant, and that’s nice. But at the same time…I want to feel attractive to guys as well. I don’t crave it, just from time to time, I’d like Clay to tell me I’m beautiful like he used to.

Upon some snooping (my bad), I’ve learned he’s told a couple other girls how “beautiful” they are after they upload a photo to Facebook- one being a girl he was fooling around with around the time he met me (they didn’t have sex, but made out).

Even when I’ve done my make-up and worn something cute, and gone over to see him, absolutely nothing. Not even “you look nice.”

I feel so whiny. I don’t need a man to tell me I’m beautiful, I know this. But I am a girl, and sometimes I do like hearing it. Oh well.

This Bruce Jenner thing has filled my Facebook newsfeed since the Vanity Fair cover, and the majority of it has been to praise him, or to bash “Christians” for disagreeing and saying they’re spreading hate and judgment. Maybe people are, but I personally haven’t seen a single “Christian” do either. They simply disagree! But, grab your hat and hang on tight- if someone disagrees, heaven knows they’re a hateful, judgmental, intolerant bigot.

I see differing opinions/beliefs from mine literally all the time on Facebook, and that’s perfectly ok. Because we all have a different set of opinions/beliefs, and I can respect that. Yet time and again, I see someone saying if anyone disagrees with the homosexual/transgender lifestyle, to please delete themselves off their page because they don’t have time for that kind of intolerance. Excuse me? It’s intolerant to disagree with someone? Wow, the things I learn from Facebook. (I had someone delete me because I simply liked an article over disagreeing with the Jenner change.)

I rarely post my opinion on these issues on Facebook. And, some may delete me or hate me for saying it, but I really don’t care. If I can read their posts all day that differ from my own opinions, and understand that we’re different, yet you can’t respect me for disagreeing- that makes you the intolerant one. Not me. But I guess tolerance really only goes for everyone, except for “Christian/religious” beliefs. My bad.

I will not call Bruce Jenner a woman. Because he is not. God doesn’t make mistakes. He didn’t accidently put a female soul in a male’s body. And by the way, don’t we tell girls it’s ok to be YOU without all the make-up, fake boobs, plastic surgery…etc? Yet, now we’re praising Bruce for being a woman with all that?

I guess I’m just a hateful, judgmental, intolerant bigot.

And He’s Married

It’s been a tough few days. Thursday it finally happened, the thing I knew was coming but dreading. I honestly was not expecting it to hit me as hard as it did.

John Doe got married.

I actually almost cried. If I hadn’t been at work upon learning of his marriage that day, I probably would have cried a little, before getting a grip. Instead, I just laughed at everything. I was so upset, and to try and not cry, laughing was the only other thing.

I fucking knew he would marry this girl- the girl he left me for. When they had their first baby boy in 2013, I was upset- they got pregnant within six months of him “leaving” me.

They had their second baby boy almost two months ago now. I didn’t know they were pregnant again, until like a month before she was due. I wasn’t really upset this time, just surprised. Their first boy had only just turned a year old, and now, a newborn.

It wasn’t like I was holding onto hope of us ever getting back together. I’ve known it was over since I saw the first picture of them together a month after the last time I saw him.

But he’s married now.

It seems so much more…final. I don’t know.

I felt like an idiot. I still do, because when I think about it, it still hurts. I still feel so sad, heartbroken.

I blame my emotional reaction on my pregnancy hormones. And on the fact I’ve been depressed the past couple of weeks. I go through bouts of depression fairly often it seems, and considering this month is the month my brother would have turned 8, but also the same month he died 8 years ago, it’s been rough.

That paragraph could probably use a rewrite, but screw it.

He’s finally married. And I’m still trying to convince myself that no matter what I did or said would have kept him. We just weren’t meant to be.

Will I ever find someone who makes me feel like he did, or is the feeling of first love never copied again?

A New Normal

I am now 31 weeks pregnant. I’m not trying to count down the weeks- but it’s kind of happening without me being able to stop. I’m really excited to meet my little girl face-to-face, to hold her tiny self in my arms.

I am enjoying being pregnant now though. It only took me til about 24-26 weeks to really start enjoying it. Living with the (ex)-boyfriend was just so stressful, that I wasn’t really enjoying it. I am now though. And feeling her move, wow.


Being pregnant also takes some getting used to. I’m a small girl, and I could always fit through the narrowest of places. I could get down on the floor, and jump right back up. My balance was perfect.

I’m a CNA, and that’s a lot of physical work. I’d squeeze past broda-chairs, get on the floor to plug a bed remote back in, bend over to put socks or shoes or a “pull-up” on someone, transfer a shaky resident no problem.

Yeah. Well, even though I’m not very big, getting down requires a moment to think about standing back up. Transferring shaky residents can be scary because my balance isn’t what it was. As for squeezing through narrow spaces? Yeahh, no sucking in a baby bump!

I can’t run down the hall to grab a change of clothes or something. The idea of walking down the hall tires me out. And I typically walk- the pregnant walk. The waddle. I can’t help it. I’m just so tired. I’m an energetic person, it’s so weird to have no energy.

One day I was driving home from I don’t recall where, and thought to myself, “I can’t wait to have her and have everything go back to normal.”

Then it hit me. While sure, I’ll get some energy back, my balance should return, I won’t have a bump protruding from my abdomen, blah blah, “normal” will never return. At least the normal I had. I will find a new normal.

Because having a baby changes your normal. That’s not a bad thing, it’s just something I realized. Sometimes adapting to change is hard for me. I don’t always dislike change, because I know it is a good thing, but yeah, if I’m honest it can be hard for me.

I will have a new normal, and it’ll take some adjusting to. Even though I’m excited and being a mom is something I’ve always wanted, it’ll still take adjusting. That’s just the way it is. Having a baby is a huge change.

And your normal will not be the same. You’ll find a new normal. And that’s perfectly okay.

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