Alright, so what do we know about the Greek God, Zeus?
He is often depicted with a beard. He can control lightning and thunder. There are a couple of other factoids but they do not pertain to my child, so we will go from here.
First off, the baby's name should be Zeus. If it's a girl, we have a problem because I don't think there is a feminine version of Zeus, but here's why:
About once a month, I break out in a beard of zits. I wish I was kidding. My chin and my neck erupt into a pubescent storm of hormones. These are two areas I don't normally suffer from acne. It is quite disgusting, and makes me think of Zeus.
When Zeus gets angry, he starts storms with thunder and lightning. Now I'm not saying that we have an inherently angry baby, what I'm saying is that if he/she does not like what I'm eating, my stomach rumbles and I need to find a bathroom-quick.
I don't need to dwell on this. Most of you read my last post.
Lastly, Zeus throws bolts of lightning. Have you ever experienced the horrible phenomenon known as "lightning crotch"? This term, I am 100% certain, is a scientific term. You will just be sitting there, minding your own business, passionately daydreaming about your wonderful baby growing inside of you and how much you will love each other, and then there is a strong burst of energy like an electric fence to your hoo-ha that about knocks you off of your chair. This is a real thing, guys. Beware.
Pregnancy has been quite evil to my body. I escaped the ruckus of morning sickness for the most part, only experiencing the need to run to a restroom in the morning a handful of times. Instead I had sickness at night, feeling terrible from the hours of 5-10pm in the first trimester. It was not a "throw-uppy" type of feeling, more of just a general on-my-deathbed feeling.
The second trimester dropped this problem and moved onto another, this one much more life-altering leaving me unable to look the other way, literally.
I woke up at 2am on Friday morning (for, I don't know, my sixth pee break?) and attempted to turn my head. I found myself completely unable, my neck a solid mass of sore muscle and a pounding, horrible headache wrapping around my occipital region, like a band. I attempted to fall back asleep, hoping it would go away (how naive). I lay in bed for an hour and a half, unable to sleep, unable to move, debating if it would be wise to call in to work. I even googled, "is it bad to call in to work for neck pain?". Fortunately, the internet made me feel a wee bit better about my decision to call in. That was, until, I actually dialed the phone and the manager told me that I was the second person to call in, and there may be repercussions for calling in during a holiday week.
How hard it is to hold back that part of yourself that says, "WELL, I can't move my head without crying out in pain. It should be super easy to take care of patients for the next 13 hours. I just worked Christmas Eve (without time-and-a-half pay) AND Christmas Day, and thought about calling in, but didn't." But, being the delightful person that I am, even in terribly excruciating pain, I apologized. And then later apologized to my boss.
I'm irritated that I still felt guilty.
I had to call around to 7 salons before I found a place that had an opening for a massage that day. It was over an hour away but it just didn't matter anymore. I couldn't turn my head to look to see if cars were in the other lane. I had to rely on mirrors. That's scary.
When I got to the massage appointment, the therapist told me, "Since this is a prenatal massage, I'm sure you have lower back pain and leg pain, so we'll focus on that."
"Actually, I only have neck and shoulder pain, and I'm dying. Can we focus on that?"
She responded by telling me, "Well, we will focus on that, and if I have time, I will do your arms and legs and whatever else we have time for!"
She was very nice, and as much as she improved how I was feeling she might be my favorite person that ever lived.
So, for the next 45 minutes (entire duration of the massage), she focused ONLY on my neck and shoulders. About five minutes in, she told me that it was really bad. 10 knots just on the left side, 7 on the right. One right along the ligament from my neck to shoulder that was so big it felt like a growth, and it burst like an egg sac spewing more knots from itself. It was disgusting. And as much as it hurt, it felt so much better when she was done. Massages never seem to last long enough, but I'm telling you I would have done anything for another fifteen minutes.
I also picked up some lavender oil and Blue Oil from Aveda which are both supposed to help a ton with helping one relax. I think it has helped. I think oils do work wonders, but ESPECIALLY so when you believe in them. Like, half a placebo. Hint: Blue Oil is also supposed to help with hot flashes. This could be a lifetime worship of Blue Oil.
On the recommendation of another massage therapist, I took a bath that night complete with bath fizzies, 6-to-8 cups of apple cider vinegar, epsom salt, and a couple of drops of lavender oil. I may have overdone it. I don't know that it did anything but a bath is a bath and I had time to read "Yes Please" by Amy Poehler.
I think it's kind of amazing I survived as long as I did pre-massage without completely tensing up like I did. I had to start taking Tylenol for the pain, which helped for a couple of weeks, and then I discovered a yoga routine specifically for headaches which helped a bunch after work. This worked or another couple of weeks. The chiropractor once a week helped until last week. I normally see a different chiropractor but since his wife had a baby, he wasn't there and someone else was there in his place. She stretched my neck but did not crack it, even though I asked her to, specifically. She didn't do much with my neck and I didn't leave feeling any better. A couple of days later (Friday), was the worst day of my pregnancy thus far.
Pregnancy is not fun, people. I think once he or she starts kicking, it be a reminder that all of this is quite worth it. In fact, soon it will be a nearly constant reminder that this is all worth it. And it should happen at any time! I'm currently 17 weeks along and in three weeks we will get to see our little one on the sonogram again. Last time we saw he/she, they were just a little blob on the screen.
Can I just tell you how horribly awful it is to say goodbye to your husband when you are pregnant? I honestly don't know how women allow their husbands to get deployed when they are pregnant. (Haha! "Allow.") I dropped Chris off at the airport for a week-long trip to Nebraska over Christmas while I stayed behind to work on Christmas Eve and Day. There were lots of reasons to be disappointed about him leaving. Mostly because he would be gone for a week, and I worried about stupid things like feeling the baby kick for the first time but him not being around to witness my reaction. Or not being together on Christmas. But most of all because something about the second trimester has made me absolutely obsessed with my husband. Not in any creepy sort of way, although the way I'm about to describe this is totally creepy.
I'm obsessed with the way he smells. I think he smells better than all the wildflowers and pizza in the world. I like to always be touching him. When we're sleeping, I always want part of me touching him. It doesn't even matter if it is my toes on his toes. I have to have it. The more pregnant I get, the cuter he becomes about it. He touches my belly and tells me "You really look pregnant." And I pretend to be super offended when really I love it. He makes me feel beautiful. Even when I look in the mirror and attempt to suck in my gut, and it doesn't move a centimeter, I still feel pretty. He's a good man, a great husband, and he's going to be an amazing dad.
And he doesn't judge me when I say I want a coffee from the drive-thru and then order a burger.
SO, needless to say, I bawled like a baby when I got to my car after leaving him at the airport. And then I cried at home. And then I teared up on Christmas Eve when he wasn't there. And then I cried when I was waiting at the airport to pick him up. Because that is what I do now. I cry.
I cry. And then I pee. Because for some reason my body has decided that every 1-2 hours is enough time to pass before I pee. Even if, when I pee, it's the equivalent of 1/8 cup.
It's weird that I'm kind of like a giant baby with all the crying and peeing.
Alright, well, I'm done boring you for the evening. As always, thanks for reading.
