I'm asked how I feel. I respond "oh, my back hurts a little today, but otherwise, I'm good." And the response is "JUST YOU WAIT! It will only get worse before it gets better! You won't be able to sleep at all in a few weeks. I felt like blah blah blah when I was pregnant for whosit."
Ok. Thank you. So next time someone asks, I will say I'm good.
"Oh, I feel good! Thank you for asking!" And the response is "OH, WELL YOU WON'T FEEL GOOD FOR LONG! Soon, you won't be able to sleep or poop or eat or move, you'll just be miserable! Enjoy it while you can!"
Ok. Next time, I will just smile and nod.*next time*
Smiling. Nodding. "JUST WAIT TILL THAT BABY IS BORN! YOU WON'T EVER SLEEP AGAIN! YOU WON'T EVER TAKE A SHOWER IN PEACE. YOU'LL CHANGE SO MANY POOPY DIAPERS AND YOU'LL JUST BREAKDOWN. YOU'LL NEVER HAVE SEX AGAIN AND YOUR BOOBS WILL BE SORE FROM BREASTFEEDING AND DON'T PLAN ON EVER DOING ANYTHING FOR YOURSELF AGAIN FOR THE NEXT 18 YEARS!"
Ok. Next time, I will pretend I don't speak English.
"To go, please." Oh crap. That won't work.
Why must every question be followed with the woes and trials and tribulations of pregnancy? It's as if every woman who has ever had a baby is some sort of martyr for labor, delivery, and child rearing. I'm not ready to be done being pregnant. I'm ready to meet my daughter, but I love this time. However? I'm getting sick of people telling me how aweful the rest of my pregnancy is going to be, and how aweful it is to have an infant and how aweful it will be to try to be pregnant with a toddler, should that day come (even though the same woman just told me I'll never have sex again).
It makes me just want to be alone. Or with men. Which never happens.
And to top it off, I ended up in the glorious Labor & Delivery Department of my local hospital TWICE last week. And imagine my frustration when the nurse made me differentiate between pregnancies and babies. "Yes, this is my first baby." "No, this is not my first pregnancy, I had a miscarriage last year."
To which she replied "Miscarriage and Pregnancy are one in the same."
So I punched her in the face. With my uterus. And THEN, I went back to work. (What the heck is wrong with me. Duh. Take the day off, moron.)
But really. I just want a day off. A day I don't have to think or worry or deal or blargh.
My time is coming. Sometime in the next 7 weeks, I will get my day off. But I'll be in labor, which will surely be the worst thing that's ever happened to me. And then I'll spend the next 6 weeks not sleeping, with sore boobs, no sex (that one's not a joke), poopy diapers, and begging to take a shower.
But I chose this. I longed for this and prayed for this and would give anything to spend time with my daughter in the middle of the night, and get poop on my hands, and go 3 days without a shower or eating a meal while sitting at a table.
Getting pregnant wasn't a mistake. It was intentional. So please stop trying to make me regret it. It won't happen.