I never thought I would say anything like this.
Okay, I'm saying it.
Going to Afghanistan--an active war zone--to find Julian's dad was easier than this.
Being stalked by a crazy guy in San Francisco was nothing compared to this.
Entering a meth lab in the High Desert in search of Stalker #2 was a piece of cake compared to this.
Starting The Ohio State University at age 17 and graduating with two degrees just three years later, at age 20...Phftt. Child's play, no pun intended, compared to this.
Supporting my mom and Julian after she lost her job doesn't even come close to this.
It's not even open for debate. It's just obvious: Being pregnant is the hardest thing I've ever done.
And--oh my fricking gosh--I'M ONLY TWO THIRDS ALONG.
Discovered I was three weeks pregnant in June, and as of today I'm only at 24 weeks.
Wowzers.
The doctors tell me I'm very healthy. No hint of the heart problems that both my mom and my dad had. I'm somehow managing to put on the right amount of weight.
But I'm having a LOT of morning sickness. Days when the house feels like the Titanic...in the middle of a hurricane...and a tsunami.
Actually hurling (barfing, vomiting) would be one thing. That would probably HELP it go away, but I hardly ever do. It can feel as though the nausea lasts for hours.
But, oh my by far the worst thing I'm inflicting on the men of my house are my hormones. I think I'm generating enough hormones to hold off menopause for every aging woman in America.
Example: Today, I looked down and realized for the first time that I actually have to bend over a little bit to see my feet. And you would have thought my best friends had just died in a plane crash, I was bawling so much.
Example: Somebody ate the last red velvet cupcake last night. I couldn't sleep (I'm not able to sleep at all some nights...for some unknown reasons) and I NEEDED that red velvet cupcake.
I waddled down the stairs (not that easy a thing when it's hard to see your feet,) waddled to the kitchen, opened the cupboard, and saw the plate with nothing but crumbs on it. I mean, in my frame of mind, how stupid could you be leaving the goddam EMPTY PLATE in the cupboard, with nothing but a few red velvet cupcake SHARDS on it!
I woke them up. I really did, deliberately...at 2:30 a.m....Woke up Roy like the fricking Syrian secret police interrogating pro-Democracy demonstrators. Woke up Desmond. Yep, a veteran of our Armed Forces, thrice wounded in the line of duty, rudely awakened by a crazed pregnant woman demanding to know what slimeball ate her cupcake.
No, I didn't wake up little Julian. Even hormone laced cupcake frenzy has its restraints.
So embarrassing.
For some reason, I'm thinking it's a girl. I have dreams about her. It's like I can see her already. Probably just because I feel outnumbered in my house and really just WANT to have a daughter to even things up a bit.
Twelve more weeks.
These three guys must really love me to put up with me. They really, really must.
