I'm approximately one month from my supposed due date. Whoopee. I say approximately because I have what we call an "extremely comfortable uterus" that previous inhabitants have enjoyed so much that they overstayed their welcomes by over a week each.
By the way, if you have a daughter who forgets NOTHING, don't say anything about your "comfortable uterus" in front of her, because every time after that someone inquires about your due date in her presence, she'll loudly expound on her mommy's comfortable uterus. EVERY. TIME.
Also, if this same daughter forgets nothing please do not look up tarantulas on wikipedia and tell her lots of wacky facts about their retractable claws (I'm looking at YOU husband). Or how human's skin produces earwax. Whatever, if we could just keep all the knowledge away from WonderGirl that would be awesome because the tarantulas with earwax are now giving me nightmares.
Anywho, this pregnancy has been like all my other pregnancies except now, at the tail end, I'm finding myself massively depressed. Usually I'm fine through the pregnant-time and then as soon as the baby comes out I turn into a psychotic beast. I'm not completely psychotic yet, but it is disturbing that I'm finding myself this depressed before the scheduled world-ending-postpartum-heck. Yesterday morning I could hardly move I was so weighted with the demon that likes to live on my shoulder. It's hard to even move my limbs I feel so weighted and sad. Why, oh why is this a thing???
So before I started the day yesterday, I said a silent prayer that somehow, this weight, this stupid uncontrollable weight would be lifted just a little somehow. I had a lot of errands to run and right after I drove up to the Dells to drop a friend off at work and right before I had to drop the Dude off at school and then go volunteer at WonderGirl's school, the car started shaking. Yep, -2 degree weather, I had a flat tire. I'm 8 months pregnant, barely dressed for the cold, the Dude is screaming in the backseat, the husband is at work an hour away and all I can think is I HATE WISCONSIN. I don't know why my first instinct is to curse this state, but it is. Remember Arizona? It's kind of a theme of mine I think.
I tried to get the car to a gas station running at 2 mph, but when I got there it was sans air hose machine thingy. The only thing I could do was curse Wisconsin and pray. And call my friend Jenna whose husband works nights and might hopefully be still awake. I found out later he'd been asleep since 4am but he roused up, put on his hunting gear and saved the day. The poor man laid there on the freezing FREEZING ground and changed my tire - and then discovered once he got the spare on that it was FLAT TOO. SERIOUSLY. And then he and his sweet wife (she came along and her daughter entertained the Dude while we sat in their warm, wonderful van) drove me home so at least I could take advantage of our 3rd car, and get the rest of my day sorted out.
When the husband and I buy houses, we always get one extra bedroom than we need because we feel like it's important to have a guest bedroom. And growing up with lots of old clunkers, I have the same attitude towards vehicles - we always have one more than we need just in case. Why on earth our cars seem to crap out at the weirdest times is beyond my comprehension but I don't think my backside has ever felt so relieved as when I got into the husband's latest obsession - a Jeep Grand Cherokee - and felt the heated seats kick in. Well, maybe just as much as it did a little later when I got back home and used the bathroom. Do you have a heated toilet seat bidet? That's another one of the husband's obsession-driven purchases that I was completely wrong about and he was completely right about and I have no qualms admitting that. It was -8 degrees this morning, you better believe my tush was grateful for that potty.
And you know, the rest of the day, the weight was just a little bit lighter. I was so thankful to be in my warm house and not stranded out in the freezing wilderness that is rural mid-western Amerrrca that I was more relieved than depressed. And kind of too exhausted to think. Not exactly a step up, but I'll take it.
Seriously guys, I'm not ready for this baby. Emotionally, spiritually, physically, mentally, everything. I'm freaking out and my one lifeline - my mother - is galavanting all over Asia and I can't even call and have her come up with a game plan at our usual 6am call. I need help. I don't know what to do, but I'm afraid that if I'm already falling apart now, there's no hope for me once the baby comes. I'm serious here. I'm really, really scared. THROW ME A BONE, INTERNETS. TELL ME SOMETHING WILL BE OKAY. Because I've done this twice and it was not even a little okay.
yes I'm being slightly dramatic. But if you'd have ever witnessed the disaster that is my postpartum everything, you'd realize I am actually being restrained. Go me.