Eating and Growing
Hello again. I went on an off-site "group bonding" mini-retreat with my category at the end of last week. It was a pleasant time. There was eating. There was a whole lot of eating. I think I am still digesting. My company is notorious for causing a Freshmen Fifteen to anyone who works here. And when on off-sites, mealtimes are separated by brief spasms of work. Looking back on my New York trip, all I can really remember was food. Little Italy. Seafood. Times Square glazed cashews. It's all a food blur.
I bought my first maternity clothes this past weekend. I am horrified to admit that I actually bought a pair of pants for $70. But they were exactly what I needed and I reassured myself that I will be wearing them four times a week. Which might be starting sooner rather than later, because I think that I only have about a week left in my current pants wardrobe before they blow. I am walking around the house with my fly undone. I can't do that at work. Well, I can, but I don't think anyone would particularly enjoy the experience.
Little Whozit in my belly is wiggling up a storm now. Mainly in the evenings when I am laying on the couch doing nothing. It's like a little worm.
On the drive home from my Sunday maternity clothing adventure, with my little wiggle worm, I felt a rush of that baby joy that people keep talking about. I think I've been running away from it. I've either felt the fear of a first trimester miscarriage, or a sense of guilt because there are so many women out there, dying to be in my shoes. I guess deep down, I felt that, by not getting joyful and excited about it, I wouldn't jinx it and I wouldn't hurt anyone. But in the midst of the infertility roller coaster, I remember the agony of watching pregnant women. It didn't matter what they did, it was just painful for me. If they complained, then I felt that they didn't appreciate their pregnancy and how dare they. If they glowed and grinned, it seemed as if they were rubbing it in and how dare they. But it wasn't them. It was me. Even if they were just sitting there, minding their own business, growing their belly, it hurt me.
So, besides the obvious insensitive pregnancy bragging (which I have definitely witnessed), I can't spare anyone any pain, even by staying joy-free. And lack of excitement won't spare me a miscarriage either. So I guess I might as well appreciate my state and roll in it for awhile.
I bought my first maternity clothes this past weekend. I am horrified to admit that I actually bought a pair of pants for $70. But they were exactly what I needed and I reassured myself that I will be wearing them four times a week. Which might be starting sooner rather than later, because I think that I only have about a week left in my current pants wardrobe before they blow. I am walking around the house with my fly undone. I can't do that at work. Well, I can, but I don't think anyone would particularly enjoy the experience.
Little Whozit in my belly is wiggling up a storm now. Mainly in the evenings when I am laying on the couch doing nothing. It's like a little worm.
On the drive home from my Sunday maternity clothing adventure, with my little wiggle worm, I felt a rush of that baby joy that people keep talking about. I think I've been running away from it. I've either felt the fear of a first trimester miscarriage, or a sense of guilt because there are so many women out there, dying to be in my shoes. I guess deep down, I felt that, by not getting joyful and excited about it, I wouldn't jinx it and I wouldn't hurt anyone. But in the midst of the infertility roller coaster, I remember the agony of watching pregnant women. It didn't matter what they did, it was just painful for me. If they complained, then I felt that they didn't appreciate their pregnancy and how dare they. If they glowed and grinned, it seemed as if they were rubbing it in and how dare they. But it wasn't them. It was me. Even if they were just sitting there, minding their own business, growing their belly, it hurt me.
So, besides the obvious insensitive pregnancy bragging (which I have definitely witnessed), I can't spare anyone any pain, even by staying joy-free. And lack of excitement won't spare me a miscarriage either. So I guess I might as well appreciate my state and roll in it for awhile.
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