Ainsley is rarely sick. Maybe once a year she gets a cold bad enough to run a fever. But really, she's fairly healthy. I attribute it to full time daycare since 3 months of age. Because she wasn't always this way. She was my ear-infection-every-6-weeks kid. If it wasn't an ear infection it was a virus or strep throat. She was sick a lot, which made me sick a lot.
However, by about age 3.5 she stopped getting sick. Sure she has a cough or runny/stuffy nose here and there, but really down and out sick...no more. Also, she's never had any kind of stomach bug. The child has never thrown up.
This school year, the only days she has missed have been days we pulled her out of school for something...until February.
February brought the flu to our house and a nasty, high fever virus to both the kids. So three weeks ago, Ainsley was sent home from school with a 102 fever. She then missed the next two days The following week we kept her home because of another high fever. That whole time she would run a fever here and there, but that was it. In between fevers she was her normal happy self.
Fast forward to this week.
Tuesday the school called at 10 AM, Ainsley was complaining of a sore throat, but no fever. I was kind of caught off guard. No fever? Then why are you calling me?
But since I'm still kind of new at this public school thing, I left work and picked her up. This child was not sick. No fever, no congestion, nothing. She said she "had a frog in her throat." She flipped out when I told her she couldn't play with the neighbor girl after school. "But I'm not sick!!!" she insisted. Which I knew, but no way was I encouraging this behavior.
Yesterday, she cried getting on the bus. Said she was afraid of poisonous snakes. The night before she had grilled me about blood-sucking bugs. Clif forced her on the bus and the day was uneventful, as far as I know. Last night I asked her about it. Asked her if everything was okay at school. Asked her if she was getting along with all of her friends. Her answer "I had a great day mommy," as she bounced into the minivan.
Today, I'm working away at my office when the phone rings...Virginia number I don't know. I answer. It's the school. Ainsley's in the clinic. She told her teacher she felt like she was going to throw up. Again, the girl has NEVER thrown up.
"Is she running a fever?" I ask.
"Not really, 98.9 (side note: NOT A FEVER NURSE!!!)" the nurse responds.
"Did she throw up?" I ask
"No, but she's asking to go home," says nurse.
"Can you please explain to me your criteria for sending a child home? I thought they had to be running a fever."
"Well, yes, they need to have a fever over 100 degrees, but we also send them home if they're not feeling well. And she says she's not feeling well," she explains.
Then I got all blubbery. I don't know how to explain it. I'm not good when my parenting is questioned. I was asking if it was really necessary that I come get her and even though it wasn't, I was being made to feel like an ass hole for, I don't know...not caring that my kid was sick. Which is not the case, but that's the way I felt. Most of that, probably my own issue, but I have no idea why a school nurse is calling me when a child has ZERO symptoms.
If Ainsley gets embarrassed or upset she tells me she doesn't feel well. A kid saying "I don't feel well, I want to go home" is not reason to send them home.
So here I am, at home again with her and guess what...she's not sick! I am forcing her to stay on the couch all day. She's pretty pissed about it.
I tried talking to her, asking her why she kept wanting to come home and her only answer is that she was sick, but now she's not.
I'm trying to make her understand the difference between actually being sick and just feeling a little icky. But really, how do I make a 5 year old understand that? I don't want her suffering through school if she is sick, but again...she rarely, RARELY gets sick. And she's already been sick this month. I can't see her getting another full blown illness this close to the last one.
So bottom line, I kind of feel like something else is going on, but I've asked every question I can think of and nothing. No one hurt her feelings, everyone wants to play with her, no one yelled at her, she loves school. So why is she asking to come home every day?
Thursday, February 28, 2013
Tuesday, February 26, 2013
Bedtime Musings
His thinning figure curves around my growing abdomen. He squirms and shuffles on my shrinking lap as he tries to doze off to sleep. He settles for a few moments and then moves again, trying to find a way to fit his almost 3 year old self into the disappearing corners of my body.
I know he won't fall asleep like this. I know he needs the shrinking space of his crib. But the bunk bed will be here Friday and I know my opportunities to rock him are disappearing.
I'm not sad, but I do realize the weight of this moment. In a few months he will no longer be the baby. He will become the middle child, a role he was born to play. He has always been my middle child, from the moment he emerged from me kicking and screaming. Always demanding attention, always emotional, always stubborn and strong willed.
His head is on my shoulder now. His long body bent at the knees. His belly on mine. I can feel the baby moving. I wonder if he can feel his little brother responding to his touch. I wonder how they'll be together. I wonder how Freddie will react to a new baby taking away some of his attention. I wonder how three will fit together.
He squirms again and I finally push myself out of the chair and hoist his 34 pounds into the crib. On our wall hangs a picture of him at 3 months old. Sometimes I can't believe we've gotten here, to almost 3. From a swaddled little nut to the length of the crib. It doesn't seem like three years, but in ways it seems so much longer. Like he was always here, always a part of me. I don't remember myself without him.
I've always had trouble picturing the future. Really putting myself there, in that time, is hard. When I was pregnant with Ainsley I worried that I didn't really want to be a mom, because I just couldn't picture myself as one. And when I was pregnant with Freddie, I was terrified of having a boy because I could only imagine mothering a girl. Now, again, it's difficult to imagine having three children. When I try, I only see Freddie's face and hear Ainsley's babbles. I wonder how this one could be different, it doesn't seem possible.
He asks that I rub his belly, so I sit on the floor and oblige. His eyes flutter closed, but just as quickly he is awake and asking me questions. I can't remember the questions. I'm too tired to answer in anything more then "emm-hmm" or "okay." He never goes to sleep well for me. It takes Clif roughly 20 minutes to accomplish this. With me, it's an hour.
I know I'll give up soon. I know I'll ask Clif to come take care of it, but there will be crying and heartbreak. So instead I lift him out of the crib and carry him to my room.
I lie next to him in the dark, his breath becoming more rhythmic as sleep comes. I close my eyes and I think about how we could probably use a bigger bed. The 4 of us don't fit comfortably, 5 definitely will not. Then darkness until I'm dreaming of a huge floating bed that we all jump on.
I know he won't fall asleep like this. I know he needs the shrinking space of his crib. But the bunk bed will be here Friday and I know my opportunities to rock him are disappearing.
I'm not sad, but I do realize the weight of this moment. In a few months he will no longer be the baby. He will become the middle child, a role he was born to play. He has always been my middle child, from the moment he emerged from me kicking and screaming. Always demanding attention, always emotional, always stubborn and strong willed.
His head is on my shoulder now. His long body bent at the knees. His belly on mine. I can feel the baby moving. I wonder if he can feel his little brother responding to his touch. I wonder how they'll be together. I wonder how Freddie will react to a new baby taking away some of his attention. I wonder how three will fit together.
He squirms again and I finally push myself out of the chair and hoist his 34 pounds into the crib. On our wall hangs a picture of him at 3 months old. Sometimes I can't believe we've gotten here, to almost 3. From a swaddled little nut to the length of the crib. It doesn't seem like three years, but in ways it seems so much longer. Like he was always here, always a part of me. I don't remember myself without him.
I've always had trouble picturing the future. Really putting myself there, in that time, is hard. When I was pregnant with Ainsley I worried that I didn't really want to be a mom, because I just couldn't picture myself as one. And when I was pregnant with Freddie, I was terrified of having a boy because I could only imagine mothering a girl. Now, again, it's difficult to imagine having three children. When I try, I only see Freddie's face and hear Ainsley's babbles. I wonder how this one could be different, it doesn't seem possible.
He asks that I rub his belly, so I sit on the floor and oblige. His eyes flutter closed, but just as quickly he is awake and asking me questions. I can't remember the questions. I'm too tired to answer in anything more then "emm-hmm" or "okay." He never goes to sleep well for me. It takes Clif roughly 20 minutes to accomplish this. With me, it's an hour.
I know I'll give up soon. I know I'll ask Clif to come take care of it, but there will be crying and heartbreak. So instead I lift him out of the crib and carry him to my room.
I lie next to him in the dark, his breath becoming more rhythmic as sleep comes. I close my eyes and I think about how we could probably use a bigger bed. The 4 of us don't fit comfortably, 5 definitely will not. Then darkness until I'm dreaming of a huge floating bed that we all jump on.
Monday, February 4, 2013
The Flu
We get flu shots every year. Well, the kids and I get flu shots every year. I know I made Clif get one when Ainsley was first born, since she was too young to have one. And I think he got one last year, or maybe it was the year before.
But the rest of us, do not miss a flu shot...except for this year.
I can blame it on lots of things...
-This is the first year in a long time that we have not been to the pediatrician all year. It's a blessing, means my kids have not warranted a trip to the doctor. They've been healthy. In fact, I can't remember the last time I missed work because of a sick child. We've been for well visits, but my kids are old enough to be on the annual plan, and neither one of their birthdays fall during flu season. So there was no reminder.
-The day they gave them at work I was out.
-I'm pregnant and this fall, was too tired and too brain dead to think about it.
...but really, I just blanked.
So we didn't get our flu shots, and it really didn't even cross my mind until early January. I called 4 pediatricians in the area...all out. I called CVS and stopped by the Target pharmacy...they don't give them to kids, even with a script.
I talked to my doctor at my last appointment, on Wednesday. "The height of the season is over, but you might want to still get one. Up to you."
Wednesday night Clif came home with a scratchy throat.
Thursday afternoon he left work early with a cough and headache.
Friday he stayed home with a fever. Doctor confirmed...flu.
So I spent the weekend trying to keep the kids and myself away from him. Even though he's been contagious for days.
This morning Ainsley had the shivers and said she didn't feel well. No fever, but I'm pretty sure I see where this is headed.
We sent her to school. I'm not sure it was the right decision. But it will give me a chance to gather things up at work and prepare to telecommute for a few days if necessary.
These things always remind me how hard it is to be a parent. Making decisions based on instinct and answers from a little person. I can't keep her home every time she doesn't feel like going to school. Is this more? Is this different? Maybe. Probably. But I don't know really.
Five and a half years in and I'm still just learning as I go.
But the rest of us, do not miss a flu shot...except for this year.
I can blame it on lots of things...
-This is the first year in a long time that we have not been to the pediatrician all year. It's a blessing, means my kids have not warranted a trip to the doctor. They've been healthy. In fact, I can't remember the last time I missed work because of a sick child. We've been for well visits, but my kids are old enough to be on the annual plan, and neither one of their birthdays fall during flu season. So there was no reminder.
-The day they gave them at work I was out.
-I'm pregnant and this fall, was too tired and too brain dead to think about it.
...but really, I just blanked.
So we didn't get our flu shots, and it really didn't even cross my mind until early January. I called 4 pediatricians in the area...all out. I called CVS and stopped by the Target pharmacy...they don't give them to kids, even with a script.
I talked to my doctor at my last appointment, on Wednesday. "The height of the season is over, but you might want to still get one. Up to you."
Wednesday night Clif came home with a scratchy throat.
Thursday afternoon he left work early with a cough and headache.
Friday he stayed home with a fever. Doctor confirmed...flu.
So I spent the weekend trying to keep the kids and myself away from him. Even though he's been contagious for days.
This morning Ainsley had the shivers and said she didn't feel well. No fever, but I'm pretty sure I see where this is headed.
We sent her to school. I'm not sure it was the right decision. But it will give me a chance to gather things up at work and prepare to telecommute for a few days if necessary.
These things always remind me how hard it is to be a parent. Making decisions based on instinct and answers from a little person. I can't keep her home every time she doesn't feel like going to school. Is this more? Is this different? Maybe. Probably. But I don't know really.
Five and a half years in and I'm still just learning as I go.
Thursday, January 24, 2013
My Date
Ainsley had 2.5 years to be an only child. In that time I thought about how it must be so unfair for second, third, forth, etc, etc children. They never get that absolute, undivided, long-term attention from Mom and Dad.
Even still, it always seems more convenient to be alone with Ainsley. She has half days on Monday. My aunt usually picks her up and she gets 2 whole hours of Ainsley time with Aunt Linda before I walk in the door with Freddie. Or if I work from home, we have time to kill before starting our evening.
Maybe it's because the new baby's coming. Maybe it's because I notice how attentive and responsive Freddie is when he has my full attention. Maybe it's because I've been a huge sap lately. For whatever reason, when I got out of work early last Friday I decided that Freddie and I needed a date. Just the two of us.
I never pick him up early. If I leave work early, he's in the middle of a nap. But Friday, I just decided that the one on one time was more important than a 3 hour nap. So I stood over his little cot and watched his sleepy eyes change from confusion to excitement as I came into focus. He jumped up and into my arms and rested his head on my shoulder and said "Mommy, I yike you."
"I like you too Freddie. Do you want to go do something fun?"
"Yeah," he shouted as he squirmed out of my arms and ran to get his jacket.
I got him in the car and asked what he wanted to do. Golf...of course.
Not real golf, obviously I am not crazy. But Freddie's favorite store is Dick's Sporting Goods. And they have a putting green set up with tiny putters for little guys and gals.
So we went. And while we were there we played soccer and badminton with a basketball. We dressed in baseball gear and talked about lacrosse sticks.
But mostly we golfed.
And when he was done with that he asked to go to the mall. So we did.
And then he asked for a pretzel, so we had one.
Then I bought him a baseball hat because he's been asking for one for ages.
Then I had to hold him down for a picture of the two of us.
Because even though he's much more cooperative when he has my full attention...he's still Freddie...still my crazy monster.
Even still, it always seems more convenient to be alone with Ainsley. She has half days on Monday. My aunt usually picks her up and she gets 2 whole hours of Ainsley time with Aunt Linda before I walk in the door with Freddie. Or if I work from home, we have time to kill before starting our evening.
Maybe it's because the new baby's coming. Maybe it's because I notice how attentive and responsive Freddie is when he has my full attention. Maybe it's because I've been a huge sap lately. For whatever reason, when I got out of work early last Friday I decided that Freddie and I needed a date. Just the two of us.
I never pick him up early. If I leave work early, he's in the middle of a nap. But Friday, I just decided that the one on one time was more important than a 3 hour nap. So I stood over his little cot and watched his sleepy eyes change from confusion to excitement as I came into focus. He jumped up and into my arms and rested his head on my shoulder and said "Mommy, I yike you."
"I like you too Freddie. Do you want to go do something fun?"
"Yeah," he shouted as he squirmed out of my arms and ran to get his jacket.
I got him in the car and asked what he wanted to do. Golf...of course.
Not real golf, obviously I am not crazy. But Freddie's favorite store is Dick's Sporting Goods. And they have a putting green set up with tiny putters for little guys and gals.
So we went. And while we were there we played soccer and badminton with a basketball. We dressed in baseball gear and talked about lacrosse sticks.
But mostly we golfed.
And when he was done with that he asked to go to the mall. So we did.
And then he asked for a pretzel, so we had one.
Then I bought him a baseball hat because he's been asking for one for ages.
Because even though he's much more cooperative when he has my full attention...he's still Freddie...still my crazy monster.
Wednesday, January 23, 2013
Baby Boy
Dear Baby Boy (with no name),
So you're a boy. I am completely shocked. Even a day later, I'm still not quite sure it's true. You have been so much like your sister up to this point that I was almost positive you were a girl. I have only been looking at girl names. I have been thinking about the boxes of girl clothes I have that I can't wait to pull out and place in your drawers. I have been browsing hair bows and girlie cloth diapers. I have been thinking about how you and your sister would share a room when you're older, with canopy beds and ruffles and lace.
But, I'm now shifting my thoughts. I looked at boy names for the first time this morning. I made a list of names that were okay. Nothing is grabbing me yet. I'm thinking about how unorganized your brother's baby clothes are and how I'll need to work on that in the coming months. I'm imagining a little boy room with bunk beds and sports posters on the walls. I'm picturing you and your brother rolling around on the floor.
My ideas will change. By the time you're here I will be all kinds of boy ready. Really I wanted to write you this first letter because I always feel more connected to the babies after I know the sex. It helps me paint a more solid picture of who you'll be. So yesterday, what was an ambiguous little being in my midsection has become, today, this real, live, little person.
And I wanted to tell you about your siblings and how amazing they are and how lucky you are to have them.
Freddie was very unsure of the process yesterday. He kept asking me where the dentist was. I'm not sure why, since we never said we were going to the dentist and he has actually never been to see a dentist. He said he couldn't see, even though he was right in front of the screen. But when Daddy told him he was going to have a baby brother a little grin spread slowly across his face. It was like he was coming to the realization of what that meant and imagining a little sidekick. Seriously though, I'm going to need you to go ahead and let your brother be the crazy one. I'm not sure I can handle another little Freddie. I love that kid to death, but he is hard to handle. You just go ahead and take a step down from that, okay? Great!
Ainsley has talked non stop about a little sister. So I'm not going to lie, it breaks my heart a bit that she won't have one this time, or ever maybe. I was worried that she's melt down if you weren't a girl. But, as she tends to do, she surprised me with her grace and love. She sighed and rolled her eyes and said "Well okay then." She tells me how she can't wait to hold you and touch your soft skin. And how she'll take care of you if I need to take care of Freddie. She is already an amazing big sister and now that she's bigger, when you arrive, she will be out of this world.
So here they are, in all their glory, telling the whole world about you. Freddie refused to be on camera, but don't worry, you'll totally recognize him. He'll be the wild 3 year old in the room with blond locks in his eyes and deep blue eyes. You can't miss him.
Love,
Mommy
So you're a boy. I am completely shocked. Even a day later, I'm still not quite sure it's true. You have been so much like your sister up to this point that I was almost positive you were a girl. I have only been looking at girl names. I have been thinking about the boxes of girl clothes I have that I can't wait to pull out and place in your drawers. I have been browsing hair bows and girlie cloth diapers. I have been thinking about how you and your sister would share a room when you're older, with canopy beds and ruffles and lace.
But, I'm now shifting my thoughts. I looked at boy names for the first time this morning. I made a list of names that were okay. Nothing is grabbing me yet. I'm thinking about how unorganized your brother's baby clothes are and how I'll need to work on that in the coming months. I'm imagining a little boy room with bunk beds and sports posters on the walls. I'm picturing you and your brother rolling around on the floor.
My ideas will change. By the time you're here I will be all kinds of boy ready. Really I wanted to write you this first letter because I always feel more connected to the babies after I know the sex. It helps me paint a more solid picture of who you'll be. So yesterday, what was an ambiguous little being in my midsection has become, today, this real, live, little person.
And I wanted to tell you about your siblings and how amazing they are and how lucky you are to have them.
Freddie was very unsure of the process yesterday. He kept asking me where the dentist was. I'm not sure why, since we never said we were going to the dentist and he has actually never been to see a dentist. He said he couldn't see, even though he was right in front of the screen. But when Daddy told him he was going to have a baby brother a little grin spread slowly across his face. It was like he was coming to the realization of what that meant and imagining a little sidekick. Seriously though, I'm going to need you to go ahead and let your brother be the crazy one. I'm not sure I can handle another little Freddie. I love that kid to death, but he is hard to handle. You just go ahead and take a step down from that, okay? Great!
Ainsley has talked non stop about a little sister. So I'm not going to lie, it breaks my heart a bit that she won't have one this time, or ever maybe. I was worried that she's melt down if you weren't a girl. But, as she tends to do, she surprised me with her grace and love. She sighed and rolled her eyes and said "Well okay then." She tells me how she can't wait to hold you and touch your soft skin. And how she'll take care of you if I need to take care of Freddie. She is already an amazing big sister and now that she's bigger, when you arrive, she will be out of this world.
So here they are, in all their glory, telling the whole world about you. Freddie refused to be on camera, but don't worry, you'll totally recognize him. He'll be the wild 3 year old in the room with blond locks in his eyes and deep blue eyes. You can't miss him.
Love,
Mommy
Tuesday, January 22, 2013
Bittersweet
I am 20 weeks pregnant. Wow, this is going by really fast. Especially now that I'm in the honeymoon part of the pregnancy. I'm not sick anymore, but I'm not uncomfortable yet.
Today we go to the 20 week ultrasound. I'm feeling nervous. I always feel nervous. I am a worrier, so my mind goes to all those places that you don't want it to go when some one's running late, or my kid is out of sight for 5 seconds in a public place, or when I'm pregnant and about to have the big ultrasound that tells us if there are any issues.
But I also get nervous over the boy/girl thing. I find it very silly, because really I just want a healthy baby. And that is honest to God the absolute truth. But with Ainsley, I was nervous because I was absolutely sure it was a girl and I didn't want to be wrong. With Freddie, I was absolutely sure it wasn't a girl but afraid to admit it might be a boy and I didn't want to react badly. This time, I'm fairly sure we'll be seeing pink in our future...but not as sure as I was with Ainsley. So why am I nervous?
Well, most likely this is my last pregnancy. Which means, this will be the baby of our family. Anything can happen or change...but it's looking like this will be it for us and I'm not getting any younger, and neither are my ovaries. And I have these two amazing children, one girl and one boy. And if I could, I would relive their babyhood over a thousand times. Ainsley so sweet and happy and passive. Freddie so loud and passionate and fierce.
If we get a little sister, I will be ecstatic...but a bit sad that my baby boy is learning to dress himself and tell jokes. If it's a little brother, I will be over the moon...but disappointed because my baby girl is in kindergarten and learning to read.
I know that this baby will be it's own person. Maybe it will be a little girl that's loudest and craziest of all. Or maybe a little boy that's shy and sweet and quiet. Who knows, but I know that in all the happiness I'll experience today a part of my heart will be sad that this will be it and I'll never know that next little boy or girl.
Today we go to the 20 week ultrasound. I'm feeling nervous. I always feel nervous. I am a worrier, so my mind goes to all those places that you don't want it to go when some one's running late, or my kid is out of sight for 5 seconds in a public place, or when I'm pregnant and about to have the big ultrasound that tells us if there are any issues.
But I also get nervous over the boy/girl thing. I find it very silly, because really I just want a healthy baby. And that is honest to God the absolute truth. But with Ainsley, I was nervous because I was absolutely sure it was a girl and I didn't want to be wrong. With Freddie, I was absolutely sure it wasn't a girl but afraid to admit it might be a boy and I didn't want to react badly. This time, I'm fairly sure we'll be seeing pink in our future...but not as sure as I was with Ainsley. So why am I nervous?
Well, most likely this is my last pregnancy. Which means, this will be the baby of our family. Anything can happen or change...but it's looking like this will be it for us and I'm not getting any younger, and neither are my ovaries. And I have these two amazing children, one girl and one boy. And if I could, I would relive their babyhood over a thousand times. Ainsley so sweet and happy and passive. Freddie so loud and passionate and fierce.
If we get a little sister, I will be ecstatic...but a bit sad that my baby boy is learning to dress himself and tell jokes. If it's a little brother, I will be over the moon...but disappointed because my baby girl is in kindergarten and learning to read.
I know that this baby will be it's own person. Maybe it will be a little girl that's loudest and craziest of all. Or maybe a little boy that's shy and sweet and quiet. Who knows, but I know that in all the happiness I'll experience today a part of my heart will be sad that this will be it and I'll never know that next little boy or girl.
Friday, January 18, 2013
Punches
I was just walking back to my desk after filling my water. Minding my own business. Not bothering or interrupting anyone. Then I hear it, and I know it's coming.
"Good grief Jaime!"
I stopped in my tracks. Please don't say it, just don't say it.
"When are you due?"
I shouldn't answer. I should make some sarcastic remark and move right by, too busy to give her my time. In my mind that's what I do.
"June," I reply.
"Goodness are you sure? Because you're huge."
"Yeah, well, I guess so. But it's definitely June," and with that I walk away listening to her go on...
"Man, she is just so big...all out in front, I can't believe it's not twins...or triplets even..."
And then laughter, because obviously it is just freaking hilarious and absolutely appropriate to talk about some one's size - pregnant or not.
I sit down at my desk and I feel that burning in my eyes. I will not cry, I will not let this stupid, bitch, woman push me over the edge.
I should walk back to the elevator bay and give her a piece of my mind. Has she ever even seen a woman pregnant with triplets? Does she even realize how much I don't look like I'm carrying triplets? Can she possibly understand how rude and unkind her remarks are? Could it possibly cross her mind that I know what I look like? That I look in the mirror every single day. That I always show quickly and for goodness sakes this is BABY NUMBER 3!!!!
But suddenly, I am 12 again, back in the middle school hallway and the boys are calling me 2 x 4 and I am fragile and feeling broken. So the tears start to push over the edge and I quickly wipe them away.
I have always been sensitive. Somewhere between my college years and now, I have learned to put that away. Try and not let things get to me. I always feel so awkward and embarrassed when I let those sensitivities show. But this pregnancy has been rough on me emotionally. I cried during the movie "Ted." Last night I cried at the end of "The New Normal." I've been taking things very personally. Feeling like I'm being attacked. My head knows that it's silly, but my heart feels betrayed. A lot lately, I feel like I'm getting punched in the gut and I have no way to protect myself.
I know this is all the pregnancy hormones. I know I don't always feel this way. But lately I have definitely been feeling like I can't control the emotions. I can't wrap them up and put them in the closet and forget they're there. I can't roll with the punches. It's especially hard when the punch comes from thin air and I'm not expecting it.
So to the woman at the elevator, who I work with and see every single day, who has now mentioned how huge I am three times, who pretends to be so nice and loving and friendly, who preaches about God and being saved, who talks about everyone behind their backs, who manipulates and lies...I am sitting at my desk and flipping you the bird. Because I know what you really are and even though the hormones have me a bit confused and tangled up right now, you won't break me. I won't be that little girl again because of you.
"Good grief Jaime!"
I stopped in my tracks. Please don't say it, just don't say it.
"When are you due?"
I shouldn't answer. I should make some sarcastic remark and move right by, too busy to give her my time. In my mind that's what I do.
"June," I reply.
"Goodness are you sure? Because you're huge."
"Yeah, well, I guess so. But it's definitely June," and with that I walk away listening to her go on...
"Man, she is just so big...all out in front, I can't believe it's not twins...or triplets even..."
And then laughter, because obviously it is just freaking hilarious and absolutely appropriate to talk about some one's size - pregnant or not.
I sit down at my desk and I feel that burning in my eyes. I will not cry, I will not let this stupid, bitch, woman push me over the edge.
I should walk back to the elevator bay and give her a piece of my mind. Has she ever even seen a woman pregnant with triplets? Does she even realize how much I don't look like I'm carrying triplets? Can she possibly understand how rude and unkind her remarks are? Could it possibly cross her mind that I know what I look like? That I look in the mirror every single day. That I always show quickly and for goodness sakes this is BABY NUMBER 3!!!!
But suddenly, I am 12 again, back in the middle school hallway and the boys are calling me 2 x 4 and I am fragile and feeling broken. So the tears start to push over the edge and I quickly wipe them away.
I have always been sensitive. Somewhere between my college years and now, I have learned to put that away. Try and not let things get to me. I always feel so awkward and embarrassed when I let those sensitivities show. But this pregnancy has been rough on me emotionally. I cried during the movie "Ted." Last night I cried at the end of "The New Normal." I've been taking things very personally. Feeling like I'm being attacked. My head knows that it's silly, but my heart feels betrayed. A lot lately, I feel like I'm getting punched in the gut and I have no way to protect myself.
I know this is all the pregnancy hormones. I know I don't always feel this way. But lately I have definitely been feeling like I can't control the emotions. I can't wrap them up and put them in the closet and forget they're there. I can't roll with the punches. It's especially hard when the punch comes from thin air and I'm not expecting it.
So to the woman at the elevator, who I work with and see every single day, who has now mentioned how huge I am three times, who pretends to be so nice and loving and friendly, who preaches about God and being saved, who talks about everyone behind their backs, who manipulates and lies...I am sitting at my desk and flipping you the bird. Because I know what you really are and even though the hormones have me a bit confused and tangled up right now, you won't break me. I won't be that little girl again because of you.
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