January 22, 2014

Hi blogosphere. It's me, Pregzilla.

Happy 2014, y'all!  I'm behind the times, I know.  Haven't got my bloggin' mojo back, and might not ever.  Blame Facebook.  There's actual interaction there!  It's perfect for attention-whoring.

I'm reporting to you today from about mid-pregnancy.  In short, less indigestion, more bitchiness.


I'm off my mood stabilizer and down to about half the usual dose of my beloved Zoloft.  Most some days I see glimmers of the old unmedicated me.  It's scary.  It makes me think, Maybe I'm not as nice and self-actualized as I like to think I am.  Maybe it's all medication!

The crazy's all real though, I assure you.

The good news is, in a few more months, I'll be back among the fully medicated.  I am totally believing I'll have another round of Postpartum Euphoria.  I had it after having Nature Boy.  It was awesome.  I was walking through Walmart, whistlin' all the while.  Smiling at people in their fuzzy jammie pants.  Not turkey necking anyone.  Just so happy to be a mom.

Which is in sharp contrast to my typical daily interactions right now.

I posted the following story on Facebook, but I think it deserves a spot here as well.


I've had a few cranky days. Ain't gonna lie. I had my first pregnancy-induced food tantrum two days ago. Over pizza. Papa John's to be specific.

I couldn't even eat pizza when I was pregnant with Nature Boy (red sauce!!!!) But with this new one, I want the sauciest pizza I can get.

I spent 30 lovely minutes planning my (frugal online coupon supported) order. Mushrooms. Onions. Extra sauce. Garlic dipping sauce.

I downloaded Papa John's app only to get the pop-up that no store delivers to my address. What? So I called the store and asked the squeaky voiced pubescent boy if they deliver out my way. He said yes. So I tried again with the app. (No pizza for YOU!)

The boy lied. Lied, I say!

45 minutes into my meal planning, I called again and was told by a different Papa John's worker that they only deliver to one block east of my house. And that I couldn't get the awesome online deal if I ordered over the phone for pickup.

I was all, "That's only one more block! I've been trying to order from you guys for 45 minutes! That's it!!! I'm not ordering from you!! Bye!!!"

And I hung up on the poor girl.

Because certainly she has power over Papa John's delivery routes and was purposely withholding pizza from me. 

As if that's not bad enough, I then refused to call anywhere else or make any pizza-related decisions for the foreseeable future. I was done!

But I still wanted pizza.

So my husband, who worked all day (his 6th workday in a row) had to take over the rustlin' up of some grub. By then it was almost 7 on a Saturday night and Pizza Hut (who is much more accommodating to us country folk) was on a 75 minute delivery delay.

My guys looked at me fearfully. Could I handle a 75 minute wait? Finally, Nature Boy broke the tension by saying, "Mom, don't hurt me, but you are being really high maintenance! "

My husband busted out laughing, saying, "I totally could not get away with saying that!!!"

To my credit, I didn't frog my son or throw something at my husband. I WAS being high maintenance. So I laughed.

And the pizza, when it finally arrived, was totally worth the wait.


Sadly, this pregnancy food tantrum is not my first.  My husband wrote down my previous pregnancy's Pregzilla moment in Nature Boy's baby book.  I'll post it here later this week.

When I'm not all up in my hormones, I am actually feeling really grateful.  After 10+ years of infertility, I never thought I'd be experiencing this again.  It's amazing, really.  The creation of new life is always a miracle.  But when it happens to someone who has struggled with infertility, it's magnified.  Pregnancy is such a normal, everyday occurrence for so many people, it's easy to lose sight of the wonder of it.

I love feeling the baby move.  He's kung fu fighting on a daily basis, and I love it.  I even love my big ol' belly.  Here's my latest belly pic.   (Please forgive the less than ladylike pose.)