Boyd and I agree that this will be our last child. There is a small part of me that feels sad at that idea, and of never experiencing this amazing and miraculous pregnancy thing again. It is, after all, an incredible thing to feel another little body growing and moving inside your own. But mostly, I just cannot fucking wait for it to be over.
By my estimate, I have been pregnant for 647 years. I can no longer remember what it’s like to walk across a room without clutching my back, or how it feels to zip up pants. While I used to be someone who would leave the house, gee, almost daily, I am now a virtual shut-in due to back pain and a tendency to fall asleep at random moments throughout the day. I venture out only for OB appointments and the rare waddle up the block with my fat dog, she and I both returning home panting, humiliated and ready to nap again.
Luckily, I’ve had lots of little work assignments to keep me busy. When those run out, I read. And when I can’t read anymore, I resort to TV. Since we don’t have cable, my daytime choices consist of infomercials, skanky women shrieking at each other, and court TV.
Naturally, most of the ads shown during the day are targeted toward housewives, the unemployed, and old people. I am finding, to my fascination, that many of the ads for old people are hitting a perfect bull’s-eye with me. Old people and I are on the same page: everything hurts, we’re in a bad mood, and we’d like to tell you all about it. The ads understand us; they offer us sympathy and promise relief. It started with the tempurpedic mattress ad; when that comes on now, I snap to attention and promptly fantasize about smooshy, cushy memory foam. Next comes the ad for motorized scooters. Do I often stay in due to difficulty walking? Why, yes. Do everyday errands seem insurmountable? Uh huh. Am I tired of being a burden to my family? Well, no – as far I’m concerned, being burdened is the least Boyd can do after getting me into this mess. But, I am still on board with the motorized scooter.
Free catheter sample? Hmmm, that could come in handy at this point. A “reacher” to help get things without getting up? Brilliant idea. Bathtub with a door in it? Don’t mind if I do! The lady in that ad makes an especially amazing recovery: she starts off looking roughly like I feel, but after getting the bathtub with the door in it, she comes out of the bathroom and asks her family if they’d like to join her for “high-impact yoga,” whatever that is.
18 days left.
One thought on “golden girl”
I love your blog. I am still, however, convinced that you look positively photographable with your blue, blue eyes and your impeccable lipstick.
Also, if it helps, I will share that when I was pregnant, I once fell asleep nearly mid-bite, during dinner on the couch (I couldn’t be bothered to actually get up and WALK to the table). As I finished chewing a bite, I realized I was starting to dream. I barely got my fork to the plate and the plate to the coffee table before tipping over onto the cushions, already in dreamland.
I woke up groggy some time later, reached back over to my dinner, and commenced eating, with a mint chip ice cream finish (as I did every night). A classy lady, this one.
Hang in there pretty girl, you’re almost there.